


Fall with Me

by TheEnchantedQuill



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Attempted Murder, Bonding, Crush drama, Crushes, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Robots, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulation, Onesided Attraction, Original Character Death(s), Torture, implied interfacing, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2020-10-27 06:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 35,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20755697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEnchantedQuill/pseuds/TheEnchantedQuill
Summary: Ratchet has loved Optimus for a long, long time. When his feelings weren't reciprocated, he understood, but that didn't make it hurt any less. Time goes on, the hopeless medic fawning over his leader, until a new player comes into the mix. Perhaps it's the push they need.





	1. Chapter 1

Empty space surrounded the dented, damaged ship, engulfing it in darkness as it drifted aimlessly along. It creaked miserably, every so often a spark escaping a massive dent. The hardly functioning shuttle hurled itself through the stars, by a stroke of luck avoiding any asteroids, and later, the floating debris of the destroyed spacebridge. 

Inside the ship was a still form, lost in stasis. Shadows cast through the one window of the shuttle let light pass over a gleaming green paintjob from time to time, the outside space reflecting off the plating. The mech didn't stir once in the duration of the trip, the ship making certain of that. Instead he slept without interruption, while the pod drifted on, no sense of direction or destination. 

By sheer coincidence, the shuttle found Earth, piercing the atmosphere and plummeting into a fall towards the hard ground. The impact left a great crater in the earth, and finally cut the last string of the ship's functionality. It laid, broken and useless, but it's cargo well in tact. 

For some time, the world was still. 

No life emerged.

But as systems rebooted, and functions woke slowly, a sliver of consciousness came into existence.

Blue optics opened and whirled for the first time in years.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Crush:**

**Noun.**

_ **"A brief but intense infatuation for someone, especially someone unattainable or inappropriate."** _

So that's the meaning Miko had intended when she had spoken about Jack and Sierra. Ratchet had been certain that the term 'crush' had meant 'compress inward with force', in the human world. . . Perhaps he had been wrong. 

From his understanding of the conversation, and the newly learned term, Miko had been teasing Jack for his feelings towards someone considered unattainable. 

A relatable feeling. 

A soft vent escaped from Ratchet's lips as he exited his research of the definition. He'd have to remember not to eavesdrop next time. He had better things to do. 

Ratchet returned to what he had been working on before the children had piqued his curiosity; the Synthen formula still needed much work, and it was best that he remained on task. It had been many weeks after his first failed testing of the synthetic energon, yet not one night was slept in comfort. Even through the loss of Optimus' memory, with the stress and worry of his leader's absence, Ratchet remained in a constant state of guilt. Not only did he deliberately go against his leader's orders, make an absolute fool of himself, and severely injure himself, he swung a low blow at Optimus that he knew would hurt him. Ratchet was well aware that he had pained the Prime with his harsh words, and he hated himself for it. How could he? His best friend, who always looks out for him, who's selflessness brings admiration to all. . . And he intentionally hurt him. Optimus forgave him, of course. Optimus always forgave him, be it an obscene curse or a snappy remark. He had been assured that it was the Synthen talking. 

Ratchet wouldn't let that be an excuse for his behavior. Nothing could excuse what he had said and done. 

And for Optimus to disappear onto the Decepticon warship, his memories lost, so soon after? 

What if that had been the last memorable thing Ratchet had said to him before he was slaughtered?

The thought made Ratchet grimace and stop typing. Miko, having been conversing, stopped, seeing the change in expression out of the corner of her eye.

"You okay, Doc-Bot?"

_Ah, you must control yourself_. Ratchet cursed himself before letting his face relax. "I'm fine. . . Don't call me that." 

"What's with the face?"

"It's nothing, Miko."

"Did it finally dawn on you how grouchy you are?"

_"Miko._"

The girl raised her hands defensively and grinned. "I'm just joking, Ratch. Lighten up."

Ratchet opened his mouth to lay down an agitated remark, but the sound of even footfalls getting louder and louder stopped him; he shut up quickly and let his servos fall back to working. They didn't type, but fiddled with the keyboard, too distracted by the new presence to delve back into focus. "Hello, Optimus." He greeted.

He sensed Optimus' nod of greeting, even with his back to him. "How does the formula fare?" 

"Slow," Ratchet muttered irritably, "but it's coming along." 

The Prime leaned forward, peering over his shoulder at the screen. Ratchet's servos jumped back into action to disguise his distracted fiddling. His leader stared at the screen for some time, Ratchet desperately trying to type while he was watching him, sparkbeat increasing rapidly at the sensation. Primus, he hoped Optimus couldn't hear his pounding spark, it was all he could hear. 

"You've made progress." The Prime finally said, straightening up. "Your hard work is paying off, Old Friend. Do not let yourself stress over completing the formula."

Optimus was always the observant one. Of course he would pick up on Ratchet's stress. He didn't quite have the right reason, though. If only he knew.

"I won't, Optimus." That was a lie. It burnt his glossa, not only the lie itself, but how it came out. His tone gave it away; weary and flat. It was painfully obvious he was lying. 

A doubtful look flickered on Optimus' face, but he let it go quickly. He turned silently, and approached the railing, gaze falling upon the children. Ratchet sighed quietly, barely listening as his leader asked them something about their guardians. He had no reason to eavesdrop anymore. 

This time, he really returned to his work. Optimus was right, he had made a lot of progress over the past couple of weeks. He would continue to do so until he was finished. That would make Optimus happy. 

Unfortunately, the computer made a soft beep and a warning popped up on the screen. Ratchet stared in irritation, setting his jaw as he read it. "Optimus," he looked over at his leader, calling out softly. 

The Prime turned his helm, acknowledging him. 

"An Autobot ship just crash landed on Earth."

  



	3. Chapter 3

"Bring your medical kit, there could be wounded Autobots." Optimus ordered as he made his way to the groundbridge. Ratchet followed in suit, his kit in servo.

"It could be a trap," the medic pointed out warily, "We don't know if it's really an Autobot in the pod, either. What if there's a Decepticon?" 

"It's a necessary risk. The Decepticons could have also picked up the signal. If a fellow Autobot is in that pod, we can not allow them to be cornered by an enemy group." Optimus didn't meet Ratchet's stare, his focus on imputing the coordinates. He pulled the lever, and the bridge whirled to life with a steady hum. 

Ratchet vented quietly. "Very well." He mumbled. He hadn't been outside the base for some time. . . And he wasn't looking forward to it. 

His leader walked a few strides ahead and transformed, pausing so Ratchet could catch up transform at his side. "Roll out." He ordered as his gas pedal lowered closer to the floorboard, engines humming. They both pushed forward through the swirling streams of the bridge. 

Heat hit Ratchet's plating like a boulder, and his wheels labored in thick, hot sand. He grumbled irritably. Of course, the desert. Just what he needed- sand in between every plate of armor. Optimus didn't seem pleased with the sand either, as his wheels tossed it up, leaving an itchy, uncomfortable effect in his gears. "We could continue on foot," Ratchet suggested. 

The Prime made a small sound of agreement before he transformed. "We should be very close." He squinted against the sun, scanning the rolling land. There was smoke in the air, his optics followed the movement over a hill. "Just over there." He pointed, mumbling to himself. Ratchet nodded. They started up the steep dune, struggling upward in the falling sand. 

"I hate this fragging planet," Ratchet cursed as his pedes slipped, and he drifted down a little. Optimus sent a glance back at him, but said nothing. The medic trudged back up to his side, optics trained furiously on the moving ground. Every couple of moments, Optimus would look at him and take note of how was doing, as they pushed on upward. "Fragging finally. . ." Ratchet groaned in an exasperated voice as they reached the top. 

He looked over at Optimus, but his leader was staring intently downward, towards the base of the huge dune. Ratchet followed his gaze, and his optics met the smoking wreckage of a small ship.

"Oh, Primus," he breathed, "nobody could've survived that." 

"We must search for survivors." Optimus began down, sliding through the hot sand. Ratchet followed in suit, stumbling a little and cursing. They reached the bottom much faster, this journey being downhill. 

"Decepticons may show up. We should do this fast." The medic said worriedly, glancing around at the horizon. "I don't want to get ambushed out here." 

"We won't be long." There was no hint of annoyance in the Prime's voice, but Ratchet could see a trace of it on his face. He fell silent with a quiet vent. 

Optimus forced a malfunctioning door open, revealing a dark hall. Slowly, he stepped inside, optics glowing bright in the shadows. Sparks crackled at broken panels and damaged structures, and fluids leaked onto the floor. The Prime set his jaw, before continuing down the hall, hearing Ratchet nervously step in behind him. "Is anyone here?" He called. No answer came.

"Optimus," he heard Ratchet whisper behind him, in a fearful voice. 

A corner was just up ahead. Optimus neared it with caution, before carefully stepping around it and looking around. They had made it to the control room. The monitors were cracked, parts had fallen from the ceiling, and fluid puddled on the floor. 

"Nobody could've survived this." Ratchet repeated, looking around. "It's a mess." 

There was the small sound of a footfall behind him, and suddenly, Ratchet felt a thick cable wrap around his neck. "_Don't move,_" a voice firmly hissed, as the cable tightened firmly around his throat cabling.

The medic gave a strangled gasp, spark dropping through the floor. His frightened optics immediately went to Optimus, who was still looking into the control room. "O. . . Optim. . . us. . ." He choked, voice faltering with his lack of intake. His leader didn't hear him, but the mech behind him did, and responded with a growl.

"Shut up!" He snapped. Ratchet wheezed miserably as the mech jerked the cable back, and his pipes were crushed, drawing a choked whine of pain. 

"What was-. . ." Optimus began, turning and trailing off. His optics met Ratchet's for a moment, before he looked at the mech behind him. He grew tense, optics widening briefly, then narrowing. "Don't. . ." His voice came with a frantic tone to it.

"Why are you on my ship?" The mech questioned with a hiss. "Did you come to raid the cargo? Or capture Autobot intel?" 

Ratchet's gasped for breath against the cable, pulling at it desperately. His leader spoke gently, "We came to search for any Autobot survivors." 

"Who are you?"

"I am Optimus Prime," the Prime moved and let the mech glimpse the Autobot insignia on his shoulder plate. "And that is my medic, Ratchet. . . Please, you're hurting him." 

The mech fell silent for a moment. Ratchet's processor was reeling, and his vision was was becoming distorted. "Optimus Prime? You're the leader of the Autobots. . . Oh, Allspark!" The cable was released. "Primus, I'm _so_ sorry, I thought I was being ambushed by Decepticons!"

Ratchet gasped, chassis heaving, rubbing the dented, aching cabling on his neck. Optimus took a step towards him, watching with concern. Air flooded back into Ratchet's systems, and he vented heavily with relief, before straightening up and turning to face his former captor. The mech had a shining green paintjob, and soft blue optics. The Autobot insignia was painted proudly on his chest. The strange mech took his servo unexpectedly, and he flinched as an enthusiastic handshake took place. 

"I'm really sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Glad you're not a Decepticon." The mech grinned at him. Their gazes met, and the mech's optics noticeably whirled. "I swear you'll never have to deal with that from me again, eh? I'm Ironchrome, but that's a mouthful, so my buddies always call me Chrome. Pleasure to meet you, Ratchet." 

"Ah. . . I. . . Thank you." Ratchet nodded nervously. 

Chrome patted his servo, before releasing it. "It's an honor to meet the two of you. Are there more Autobots around?" 

"We have a small but strong team." Optimus answered. "I do need background information, however. We have encountered Decepticon spies." Ratchet recalled the Wheeljack lookalike incident with a grumble. 

"Oh, well," the strange mech shifted his weight to one pede and thought for a moment. "In the very beginning of the war, I was around Iacon, as a guard, but due to my absolutely epic abilities in combat," he grinned as he boasted a bit, "I was quickly sought out to join the front lines and raids and such. I've wiped out more Decepticon outposts than I can count." 

"You do sound rather familiar." Optimus gave a small nod. "I remember hearing about your team often in the final days of the war, before Cybertron went dark. You were popular among the soldiers for your skills." 

Chrome shrugged. "What can I say, couldn't keep my blades offa' those 'Cons." He chuckled. 

"How did you end up here?" Ratchet asked skeptically, narrowing his optics. 

"Ah, I was waaaay out there in my ship. I had set off alone, chasing a few 'Cons every so often, when I received Prime's message, calling Autobots to Earth. I knew I was meant to receive the message long before, the long distance put it off for a while. When I did get it, I was ridiculously far from Earth. So, I put on my lovely autopilot buddy, and put myself in stasis for the trip. Jetlag sucks, and so does cabin fever. Figured I'd just rest up." Chrome watched him with sparkling optics as he explained. "Once we entered this galaxy, I think we hit an asteroid or something. Whatever it was, it damaged the ship, and thus, we crash landed." 

The medic sent his leader a doubtful look. Optimus listened carefully, venting. "Chrome, you may return with us to base." He announced once the mech was finished.

"What? That's it?" Ratchet stared at him in disbelief. This mech had literally just strangled him with a cable, and Optimus was welcoming him in just like that? 

"But," the Prime sent a sideways glance at Ratchet, "You will be monitored until we are absolutely certain of your trustworthiness." 

A grin spread across Chrome's face. "Sounds absolutely perfect!" He put his hands on his hips as an enthusiastic gesture. "I've got a good storage of energon. Let's take it with us." 

Optimus nodded, and Chrome led the way back down the hall, falling into a ramble of his past and what he had done and his accomplishments and such.

Ratchet rubbed his aching neck and followed with a sigh.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

The others absolutely adored the new arrival. 

Upon meeting Ironchrome, conversations sparked like a flame, and soon flourished into a heavy fire. They all stood in a circle, exchanging stories, making jokes, and welcoming the new Autobot with enthusiasm. The children, Miko especially, took pleasure in speaking to the mech, absorbing every bit of his backstory and experiences. 

Admittedly, Ratchet did take interest in some of his stories. Chrome wasn't a bad mech, he was quite friendly and kind. After it bore down on him for a bit, Ratchet released the negative impression he had upon the mech from their first meet, and allowed himself to move past it. His neck cables were crushed and horribly sore, but he could handle that. Chrome was incredibly apologetic, and had offered to help fix it, but Ratchet turned the offer down. 

"I can take care of it," he shook his helm. "It's just a bit of denting."

Chrome shifted his weight to one pede and smiled widely at him. "Of course. While you're doing doctor stuff, would you be up for giving me a check?" Ratchet raised an optic ridge. "I got some damage in the crash. I think the impact triggered something in the ship, what woke me from stasis. I haven't been able to use my firepower or my blades." He lifted his servos and attempted to transform them, but they buffered and stilled. 

"Your T-Cog." Ratchet nodded in understanding. "I'll scan you and see what the problem is." He offered, stepping to the side so the newcomer could sit down. 

"Thanks, Doc!" Chrome beamed and planted himself down on the bench. 

The medic made a grumbling sound. "Please don't call me that." He mumbled as he activated his scanner. "Sit up straight." 

A tinge of relief passed through him when he received no sass or snark, instead, Chrome straightened up, smile not fading. If he had said that to Wheeljack, the wrecker would've made a few comments before following the order, maybe delivered a new, even more agitating nickname.

The scanner yielded reassuring results; the long period of time without usage, and sudden shock of the crash had caused his T-Cog to lag, it was simply in need of time to recover and warm back up. Ratchet delivered this matter-of-factly, deactivating his scanner and letting his arm fall to his side. "Anything else you would like me to look at?" His gaze lifted to meet Chrome's. It was slightly uncomfortable, the green mech had been watching him with such quiet interest, tilting his helm and taking note of every gesture made, optics whirling with curiosity whenever Ratchet spoke. This went unmentioned. 

"No," Chrome shook his helm, "I think I'm fine, thank you. You're very kind to do this."

The medic scoffed. "It's my job. Run along, now." He shooed him, and Chrome obeyed immediately, sending him a warm smile as he left, and approached Bumblebee and his charge. Ratchet made sure everything was put away, and double checked his tools, reorganizing if necessary. He was in the middle of rearranging a particular box, when the familiar, gentle footfalls of his leader approaching stopped him. He looked up. "Optimus?"

"Is Ironchrome in health?" Asked the Prime. Ratchet inwardly sighed. How is the new mech? Not is your neck okay from being strangled? Are you alright? It was a selfish thought, but the simple question upset him a bit, his leader hadn't mentioned it once. It was quite the feeling, really, for one who you care about so dearly to show more concern towards a stranger. Again, it was a selfish thought. Optimus often showed him his appreciation, being a good leader and friend, he always acted more friendly with his medic, given their history. What Ratchet wanted was more than friendly. 

"He's perfectly fine," Ratchet answered with a nod. "He'll make a good soldier." 

Optimus regarded him with a small smile. "Thank you, Old Friend. I hope you have made amends?" 

"Yes, yes, he apologized." 

The Prime nodded, before turning and striding off towards the monitors, Ratchet staring after him with searching optics. 

  
  
  


The Autobots were up late with the newcomer, enthusiastically welcoming him and taking pleasure in his charm. The stories and jokes lasted long after Ratchet had retired to his berthroom, he knew so because of the loud laughter of his inconsiderate comrades, echoing through the halls. It took some time for him to dip into recharge, and when he did, it was a light slumber, dreamless, him drifting in and out of it until morning. He woke with a soft sigh, opening his optics slowly, basking for a moment in the peaceful quiet. It was in the early hours, but he often woke early so he could work; some of the Autobots slept in when they didn't have patrol, and he could use the opportunity to work in a silent environment. Ratchet swung his legs over the side of the berth and stood, rubbing his optics as he tiredly left the room. 

The main hangar was quiet and empty, he was the first one up. Perfect to start the day. He approached the monitor, turning it on and staring at the screen with empty optics for a few moments, before he began typing. He could get a decent amount done by the time the others woke. Perfect.

He had just set into a productive drive, when soft footfalls behind him snatched his attention. 

"Good morning," it was Ironchrome. What happened to constant surveillance? He strode up and stopped a few paces away from Ratchet, an energon cube in each servo. "I noticed you didn't grab any energon." He offered one to him, smiling politely. "I heated it up as well. . . I wasn't sure if you'd like it that way, I always heat mine up in the mornings." 

Ratchet looked at it for a moment, before taking the cube and nodding. "Thank you." He sent a grateful smile that didn't reach his optics. "Have you been awake for long?"

The green mech shrugged. "I was unconscious for so long, stalling for so long. . . Right now, sleep isn't at the top of my list." He took a small sip of his own cube. "Do you always wake up early?"

Ratchet nodded again, this time not verbalizing. Chrome seemed to take the hint well, smiling at him in farewell before walking off, leaving Ratchet to work. The medic immediately went to typing once again, every so often taking a drink of the cube. Even from the distance between them, he could feel Chrome's gaze on him every few minutes, he'd slow his pace upon feeling the stare, only resuming when the mech looked away. He wondered what it meant. Chrome had been awfully kind to him, and had been very charming. . . The energon was nice. Optimus sometimes did the same, when he noticed Ratchet had been neglecting his needs, but it was always sort of a leaderly gesture, an order to nourish himself. Chrome had a significantly different vibe. . . One he didn't want to recognize.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

An Autobot distress signal had appeared on the radar. Ratchet examined it briefly, before calling out to his leader. The Prime approached, a hardened look crossing his features as Ratchet explained his discovery. "It could be a trap." he said, in a quiet breath, venting slowly. "I wouldn't place it place it below the Decepticons." 

"But if there are Autobots in need. . ." Ratchet locked onto the coordinates as he spoke. 

"Bulkhead, Arcee, with me," Optimus ordered to the others across the room, before pausing and looking back at his medic, "And you, Ratchet. If there are wounded soldiers, your expertise will be needed." 

The medic blinked, but nodded and activated the groundbridge, as Bumblebee and Ironchrome padded over curiously. "Bumblebee, you'll be in charge of the groundbridge." Ratchet said to the scout. He nodded in understanding.

"Would it be alright if I tagged along?" Turning to look at Optimus, Chrome asked. The Prime regarded him with a hesitant look.

"Have you fully reco-"

Before he could finish, Chrome raised both servos and activated his blasters, demonstrating the functionality of his T-Cog. "The doctor was right, just needed some time." He sent a smile Ratchet's way. "He's very intelligent." 

Optimus briefly looked between them before speaking, "Ratchet, is he well enough to engage on the field?" 

Ratchet desperately wanted to say no, so he could have distance from the mech. Honestly, Chrome had done nothing wrong. He was kind, polite, and admittedly, had a very engaging and interesting personality. The others certainly loved him. But he paid more delicate attention to Ratchet, more compliments, delivering a cube of energon to him every morning, engaging in small talk and a quick comment on his expertise or wisdom, and then running off respectfully to let him work. It was consistent for the days he had spent at the base, and while the gestures were indeed very nice, Ratchet wasn’t sure he wanted the attention. Not from him, at least. Chrome didn’t do any of these things for the other Autobots, he was only interested in spending the efforts on Ratchet. The medic had been alive for a long time, he was no stranger to infatuation, and flags were flying up everywhere. It was only a suspicion, however. It simply could be guilt, the green mech had strangled him with a cable, he could easily be trying to make it up to the medic. Most likely, that was it. Either way, it was unsettling. Frankly, Ratchet wanted Optimus to be the one engaging with him and showing such interest him him, the way he did towards Optimus. Such efforts had gone unnoticed, or ignored, and he had given up, retiring to distant longing. Had he moved on, Chrome’s efforts would probably be answered, Ratchet would acknowledge it with appreciation, but that wasn’t the case. 

Remembering Optimus had asked him a question, he quickly answered, “Yes, he is in good health. And spirit,” he added, watching as Chrome enthusiastically bounded to the bridge. 

The Prime followed in suit, his medic close behind him, and the group passed through the bridge, coming out in a thick, green forest. Weaving through trunks, Optimus went forward a few paces, examining the environment about him. “Ratchet, are you certain these are the-”

A branch snapped somewhere, and Optimus whirled around at the sound, servos transforming to firepower immediately. Ironchrome, Bulkhead and Arcee did the same, weapons heating up at activation. Ratchet, possessing no form of firepower, helplessly stayed at his leader’s side. 

"Who's there, reveal yourself!" Optimus called in warning, in that thunderous, commanding voice of his; Ratchet sent a glance of admiration his way. 

Silence answered him, a thick stillness in the air. The group remained tense and wary, scanning through the quiet until Chrome quietly spoke, "It was probably some native creature, we should move closer to the signal. Let's stay together though, an ambush is still a possibility.

'Who put you in charge?' Annoyance flashed in Ratchet's optics as he regarded him with a look. 

Optimus looked down at him for a moment, considering the suggestion and the out of place leadership, before speaking in a low voice, "I agree. Ratchet, navigate." 

The medic didn't let his annoyance to escape as he pulled out a small tracker and nodded his helm. "That way-," he pointed, watching the beacon on the small screen. Optimus led them slowly, weapon still drawn, through the thick trees and the wary quiet. "A few more yards. . ." Ratchet stayed at his leader's side in the front of the group, pointing again. "We're close." He lowered the tracker. 

They took a few more steps, before a sharp noise cracked through the trees, and several things happened at once at incredible speed. As Optimus took a step into a clearing, six metal spears launched from hidden spaces behind trees, five of them sinking into Optimus abruptly, electricity passing through the cables and into him, pulling a pained shout from his voicebox. The sixth spear had caught Ratchet across the side, skimming him enough to draw a gash in his side. Chrome shouted something, and Ratchet swore he felt his servo on his shoulder, but Arcee's exclamation was louder and clearer: "M.E.C.H.! _GET DOWN_!" Bullets ripped through the clearing, from both parties, but Ratchet only heard Optimus struggling against the electric cables. Transforming his servos to blades, he desperately swiped through them, ignoring the smaller jolts of electricity briefly coursing through him. Once the cables had been severed, Optimus rounded and began firing, gasping in pain, energon leaking from where the spears remained stuck in various parts of him. 

"BUMBLEBEE!" Ratchet hissed through the com link. "GROUNDBRIDGE NOW!" A series of whirls and beeps answered him, and a yard or so away, a bridge swept to life. "Optimus," Ratchet pulled his leaders arm. The Prime was breathing hard, chest heaving, denta grit in pain and intensity. He acknowledged his medic, and then the bridge, before calling out to the others, and they fled.

  
  
  


Watching as the metal giants one at a time retreated, Silas padded through the forest and removed his mask, setting his jaw. He hadn't been expecting a full party. The trap had been so close to success. . . Perhaps it would work on the Decepticons. 

  
  
  


Back at the base, things were still moving very fast for Ratchet. Arcee had been shot in the shoulder, Bulkhead in the hip, his own side was bleeding and aching, and Optimus still had five spears protruding from him. That was the worst of the injuries, and immediately he was leading Optimus to the medbay, gesturing for Bumblebee to start with Arcee and Bulkhead. 

While he was sitting Optimus down, he felt servos on his shoulders. Chrome was pulling him away, ever so gently. "Ratch, you're injured, please let me help you." The green mech offered kindly. Ratchet shoved his servos away rather roughly in his stress.

"CHROME, _OFF_ OF ME." He shrugged away from him and dove into tending to Optimus, fretting and working frantically, not bothering to hide his heavy concern. "Primus, Optimus," he hissed as he pulled one of the spears out. Optimus cried out; Ratchet winced and murmured gentle comfort to him, spark aching. 

In that moment, he looked up briefly, and found Chrome's optics; the mech was standing there, watching him, his face glazed with understanding and hurt. Ratchet held contact for a moment, before shaking his helm and returning to his treatment. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Everyone healed at a good pace. 

The gash in Ratchet's side was nothing, he hadn't even noticed the pain in all his worry. Arcee and Bulkhead pulled through quickly and resumed their work. Optimus would take more time, but within two weeks, he was able to walk with nothing more than an ache. Everything was fine. 

For the first few days of the first week, Chrome had stopped delivering energon to Ratchet. He stopped making eye contact, stopped bringing light conversation, he completely left Ratchet alone. It was somewhat relieving. However, it didn't last. At the end of that first week, it all started up again. Warm energon. Compliments. Bright smiles. Ratchet brushed it off with annoyance, more so than before.

Admittedly, he had overdone the fretting over Optimus. He knew very well that his leader was healed, but he insisted on the continued checkups for his own selfish longing. Optimus, bless his soul, obeyed with kindness, accepting the care, although he had clearly recognized how unnecessary it was. Chrome had too. 

As Optimus left the medbay directly after the last checkup Ratchet would be conducting, Chrome entered, Ratchet's toolbox in hand. The medic regarded him with a confused look.

"While you were looking after the chief, I cleaned all of your tools!" He explained brightly. "I'm sorry if you needed them, I tried to work quickly." He offered the box to him.

"O-Oh." Ratchet took the box. "Thank you, Chrome, that's very considerate of you." He had hoped the conversation would end there, but it didn't.

"If there's anything else I can do for you, you name it, alright?" 

The medic turned away and tucked the box into it's place among his stores. "Yes, yes, now off with you, there's work to be done and a war to win." He dismissed, waving a servo. Ironchrome chuckled and strode off pleasantly. "Primus." Ratchet shook his helm.

His monitor went off then, and he was before it immediately. "Decepticon activity." He said to Optimus once his leader appeared behind him.

The Prime looked to his Autobots. "Ironchrome, Bumblebee and Arcee, you will investigate. Contact us if needed." He ordered, and the lot quickly moved out. Relief passed through Ratchet as Chrome disappeared through the bridge. 

They were gone for about an hour or so, which Ratchet spent working, and every so often gazing off in the direction of his leader. At least he could stare without the concern a certain green mech would catch him. He had never felt embarrassed about his longing before, the others had never noticed it. A new set of optics that paid attention sought it out right away. Now, he had to be careful in his infatuation. A new, frustrating concept. The group returned successful, a good amount of energon in hand, with only one injury that required attention. . . Which happened to be a gash on Chrome's leg, much to Ratchet's dismay.

The green mech sat down in the edge of the medic berth, wincing in pain but still beaming. Ratchet knelt down and began his work welding the wound and cleaning up the energon, venting quietly. 

"Didn't even see him, was so busy taking down the other two," the mech was reliving, "It was rather embarrassing, honestly. I'm lucky Team Prime has such a talented medic on their side." He smiled kindly. 

"Hush, hush." Ratchet retorted, but he didn't. 

"Your work on Optimus a couple weeks back was impressive. The guy had five spears in him and walked out like it was no big deal. I'll bet the Decepticon medic can't do that." 

"Knockout isn't good for much regardless." Ratchet muttered. 

Ironchrome laughed genuinely. "You've got a lot of sass. I like it." 

"I can die happy now." Ratchet muttered, instantly regretting it as it drew another laugh. 

"I enjoy being around you. You're very funny." He tilted his helm, watching Ratchet work. "And you've got the most _alluring_ optics-"

"You're done, off you go." The medic interrupted swiftly, standing up. Chrome rose with him, but didn't move. 

"Look, I know you don't possess much interest towards me, but. . . Primus, I'd love to. . . Well, here's the. . .” Everything was coming out fast and choppy, each one left unfinished. “Ratchet, I would like to enter a relationship with you.” He blurted out so suddenly. “It's so hard to have a relationship during a war, but when any day you might die, you have to live in the moment, you know. . ?” His cheeks were a slight tinge of blue in a small blush that didn't seem right on his features. One of his servos was offered.

Ratchet froze, staring at him with wide optics. "I. . . Chrome, no." He inched away from the outstretched servo. "I don't think that's a good idea." 

"Is it because of Optimus?" That hit Ratchet hard and suddenly, his tanks turning cold, the shift in tone sending him off track, and he hesitated before speaking.

"I don't know what you mean." He said simply.

Chrome sighed, turning his helm away. "I've seen the way you look at him, the way you fawn over him. . . I can't help but feel that the only reason you say no is because you've reserved yourself for him, in hopes he'll notice you." He smiled sadly. "He doesn't appreciate you in the way that you want him to." Everything seemed to be pouring out of him at once, and Ratchet struggled to keep up. 

"That's-. . . I. . ." The medic was panicking, spark sinking through the floor. 

Their optics met. "You're in love with him, aren't you?" 

"N-N-" 

_"Don't lie to me!"_ Chrome's voice raised a little, hitching with hurt. "It's painfully obvious, Ratchet, you follow him like a lost puppy, a drone so far gone. . . Primus, you've fallen hard, haven't you?"

"Yes, Chrome, I have!" Ratchet hissed, clenching his servos into fists and legs tensing, spark heaving. "Regardless, it's none of your concern! I said no, _now leave_!" 

"Do you think he loves you?"

This time, it hurt. Chrome was digging deep, and he was well aware of it. Ratchet knew the answer, and recoiled a little, pain bleeding into his optics. 

"Do you?"

". . . No, I don't." His voice bore a defeated hint. "But that doesn't matter. Get out of my medbay." He hated to admit that tears had begun to nip at his optics. He knew Optimus didn't return any of his feelings, but this was the first time he said it out loud. . . It hurt. . . 

The volume vanished from Chrome's voice now, and he spoke gently, "I'm sorry, Ratchet. . . You're right, he doesn't want you. . . But I do." Ratchet huffed at that. His energon burned frantically as a servo touched his cheek, but before he could swat it away and protest, the door to the medbay opened audibly.

Optimus strode in, optics low, before looking up and freezing. Ratchet quickly shoved Chrome's servo away, inhaling sharply, igorning the destroyed look in Chrome's optics. "I did not mean to inter-" the Prime was cut off as Ratchet brushed past him and vanished down the hall. 

Chrome stared after him, optics whirling.

  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

Pacing back and forth in his enclosed berthroom was all Ratchet could think to do. His spark was pounding, tingling with horror and anger. It alarmed him that Ironchrome had been paying such close attention, had been watching his feelings, he had Ratchet completely unravelled in that medbay. The harsh reality of the entire ordeal sank in heavily; never before had Ratchet admitted his feelings out loud. . . And never before had he admitted that his feelings were not returned. Hearing it come from himself and Chrome simultaneously bore down on his spark like never before. He stilled his movements, sighing, hiding his face behind his servos. He felt violated. . . Chrome had cut deep into his insecurities and secrets, and had dug his way around, and then had the audacity to ignore the rejection. Ratchet clearly wasn't interested, and yet, this blasted mech persisted. 

There was a knock on his door; he nearly jumped out of his armor. Speak of the devil. . . 

A low growl escaped him as he threw the door open. "Ugh! What do you-. . . Want. . ." His optics met those of his leader's, and his voice suddenly vanished from it's place, spark dropping through the floor.

The Prime had an energon cube in hand. "Ratchet, I apologize for interrupting and making you uncomfortable," he said with sincerity, "And I hope you realize that I will support your decision in pursuing-"

"No, no, absolutely not!" Ratchet cut him off, waving a servo in a furious gesture. "Primus, no, I'm not pursuing _anything,_ it's not what it looks like." He crossed his arms. "Ignore what you saw. It meant nothing."

"You don't have to worry abo-"

"Optimus, I swear to you, I have no interest in that. . . Fragging _blundering_ mech. No interest at all." He desperately insisted, cheeks heating ever so slightly. He didn't want Optimus to think he was taken in any way. . . Primus, Chrome was right, he WAS reserving himself in the event Optimus noticed him. . .

Optimus' optics searched his for a moment, before a benevolent smile crossed his lips, and Ratchet involuntarily shivered at the friendly beam that crossed his leader's features. Frag, he was handsome when he smiled like that. He always admired how caring the Prime was. 

"I understand, Old Friend. Let me know if any troubles arise." He offered the cube, watching Ratchet with those kind, forgiving optics. 

Ratchet smiled back. "Of course, Optimus. Thank you." He took the cube and nodded.

There was a moment where they stood, watching each other, Ratchet's spark screaming in it's chamber, until Optimus nodded back, straightened up and strode off. The door closed once he was out of sight, and Ratchet slid to the floor, back against the door, sighing slowly. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Ironchrome had left the base, after answering Optimus' concerned questions rather vaguely. He had some thinking to do. Before he wondered off, he was sure to catch a quick word with Arcee and Bumblebee, inquiring discreetly. 

Now, he peacefully drove towards a thick canyon, thoughts rolling through his processor endlessly. There were things he needed, things he wanted, things that could make everything okay. It was all about collecting, for now. He would have to do a lot of gathering, the wait would be exasperating. 

He had watched Optimus take a cube of energon and leave towards Ratchet's room with a twinge of jealousy. Admittedly, he understood why Ratchet loved him so much, he was such a caring individual, and they had a history of closeness. But Primus, he's had so much time to move on, he had to have known that Optimus didn't want him back. Ratchet was just causing more pain for himself. Chrome sighed. He could do so much for Ratchet, could end his pain and love him so dearly. . . He loved everything about the medic. The day they had found him in the wreckage of his ship, the moment their optics met, he had sensed such fire and ferocity in Ratchet, and the more they talked, the more he offered, he found Ratchet more and more alluring. Optimus didn't see him like that. Optimus didn't deserve his loving attention. 

He braked and transformed as he came to the canyon. Carefully, he trekked through, optics scanning, until he found what he was looking for. 

Hidden beneath a hard rock ledge, there was a cave entrance. It was dark inside; he transformed one servo into a blaster and activated it, the energon blue color offering a little light. It was straight in for a small stretch, before splitting into two. He followed both paths, each led to two clearings, two open dead ends, both with impressively high ceilings and a good amount of space. According to Arcee, Miko had wanted to rehearse her rather intense music here at some point, but they were hesitant, in worry of falling stalactite. No matter, Chrome would remove them. 

His ideas would be quite a heavy amount of work, he would have to plan and build precisely. And swiftly. 

He checked the time; he had been gone over an hour, it was time to return. And so began his trip back, walking to the edge of the canyon, and driving in the direction of the base. 

The future held much promise. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

An hour was all the time Ratchet could take hiding in his room, it was irresponsible for hide away while the others worked hard. Optimus greeted him kindly on his way to the monitor, and that was it for some time. The quiet didn't last, however. Ironchrome arrived not long after Ratchet emerged. 

Irritation flared into Ratchet's mind as the green mech timidly approached. ". . . Ratchet? May I speak with you?" He asked. 

"You'd better watch your step."

"Y-Yeah, I know, I fragged up." A sigh escaped him. Ratchet regarded him with an expectant look. "I'm so sorry, Ratchet. Not only was I pushy and nosy, I was completely disrespectful to your consent. I didn't let you have a say, I pushed into your personal life, I crossed so many boundaries. . ." Ratchet raised an optic ridge. "I disrespected you so much, Ratchet, and I'm so sorry. You deserve better. I won't bug you anymore, I will give you your space and I'll never mention it again."

It took a moment for the medic to answer. "We'll see about that. Off you go now." He turned his helm back to his work, waiting for Chrome to argue.

"Thank you for your time." The mech was gone.

Ratchet almost looked after him, admittedly rather surprised. He'd heard many empty apologies in the past, however. One could only wait to determine sincerity. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The next morning, when he rose and came to the monitor, a warm cube of energon waited by the keyboard, but Chrome wasn't in sight. Ratchet waited for him to appear, but he never came. 

This was an improvement. He took the energon as guilt, and the space as a further apology. This, he could take. Chrome did emerge with the others later in the morning, but said absolutely nothing to him, engaging with the others and enthusiastically accepting missions. Absolute silence to Ratchet. 

Yes, much better.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Weeks had gone by perfectly, only occasional small talk passing between Chrome and Ratchet. It was absolutely wonderful. Then Wheeljack arrived. 

A visit, was what he called it. He wanted to spend time with his fellow Autobots, but by "spend time," he meant "drink way too much, party hard and regret it in the morning." Ratchet had been caught by Bulkhead barricading the door an hour before the wrecker arrived, and so he decided he'd work for as long as he could before hiding himself in his room. Optimus would most likely do the same. 

What Wheeljack hadn't expected was the presence of the children. After some arguing, it was decided that the high grade, intoxicating energon would come out only after the children were gone for the night. There were several hours before that time would come. 

At first, there was only enthusiastic conversation and stories. Wheeljack and Chrome got along quite well, Chrome being a good conversationalist and all. Then, it became more intense. There was a crash from the large training room, and Ratchet threw the door open to lecture them, but didn't get much out. Everyone was cheering as Wheeljack and Chrome sparred in the center of the room. It was just enough to catch Ratchet's interest; he leaned against the doorframe and watched as the pair playfully tussled and battled, their comrades shouting encouragement and praise. Miko was definitely the loudest, shrieking her little heart out. It was rather entertaining to watch. Chrome had been lucky when Wheeljack tripped and was left vulnerable, easily being defeated once his guard was down. Next, Arcee and Bumblebee stood in the middle, this round ended sooner with Arcee using her small size and speed to her advantage, knocking Bumblebee down when he wasn't prepared for it. They both laughed and left the ring conversing. Bulkhead and Wheeljack entered after, but it ended with them both on the ground laughing. There was nothing interesting or impressive about that session. Ratchet turned to leave, his attention drifting elsewhere, just as Miko shrieked, "Ratch, I wanna see you in action!" He stopped, groaning.

"Let's see it Doc, take somebody on." Wheeljack wore that obnoxious grin of his that reminded Ratchet of a cat that's just eaten someone's hamster. 

"I have work to do." He dismissed. 

"Liar! Come on!" Miko rose to her feet. "I've never seen you fight someone! I bet like you're an old karate master or something, that looks fragile but has a punch!"

Ratchet sent her a glare. "Watch it."

"Miko, I don't think it's a good idea." Bulkhead tried to be helpful, but cowered at Ratchet's offended gaze. 

"It might be fun." Arcee unhelpfully added. 

Miko ran to the doorway. "I have an idea!" She squealed. 

"Forget it!" Ratchet yelled after her as she disappeared down the hall. 

Wheeliack moved to his side. "It'll be fun, Ratch. I'm sure you have a badaft side." He slapped an arm over his shoulders, all but dragging him towards the others. 

"If you want to keep that arm, you'll keep it off me." 

"Haha! There's the spark!" The wrecker released him, laughing. 

Miko came back into the room beaming, followed by a puzzled Optimus. He stopped in the doorway. "I was told there was an emergency," he began, looking around, "But now, I am sure that that is not true." He glanced at Miko for a split second. 

"I'm glad you're here," Wheeljack grinned again, "We were just looking for someone to spar with Doc here."

No! Ratchet tensed up and shook his helm. "I'm sure we both have better things to do," he snapped. "I'm not going to get caught up in this." He turned and took a few steps towards the doorway where Optimus stood, regarding him cooly. 

"Scared?" Miko teased. 

"I don't blame him," Wheeliack chuckled, _"I_ wouldn't want to tangle with Prime."

"Scared of HIM?" Ratchet scoffed. "Maybe if he was a decepticon. You forget, as a medic, I see a lot. It's hard to be intimidated by someone when you've seen them cower away from a needle." He raised an optic ridge, and the others laughed. Optimus smiled a little, and he felt his cheeks heat up. 

"Prove it!" Miko pushed.

"Show us what you've got!" Wheeljack said even louder. 

"If you want to," Chrome added quietly. 

Optimus watched the medic closely. "He's more skilled than one would think," he said kindly, though they both know it was like wood to a fire in this situation. 

"Let's see it!" 

"I do think it would be interesting."

"Wait wait, lemme get a video-. . ."

A glare was sent Optimus' way, his medic's optics bearing threats. "Only if you'd like to," his leader said quietly. 

"_I'm going to beat the scrap out of you._" Ratchet pointed to the center of the room, hissing. 

"Frag yes!" Miko screeched, before Bulkhead rounded on her and complained about her language. 

Optimus and Ratchet stood across from each other, both drawing their blades, watching one another with careful optics. Ratchet knew Optimus wouldn't charge first, he would initially hesitate out of fear of harming his medic, so he went for the first blow. He came fast, and just as Optimus made to counter the quick approach, he ducked just in time to slide under his arm, behind him, and deliver a kick to his back, sending him forward. Optimus grunted and turned immediately, barely stable and not fully recovered, thus stumbling a little as Ratchet rushed him with a series of attacks. The Prime countered each one with his own blade, shaky and not given the chance to regain his balance. A little more confidence swelled up in Ratchet, but wasn't there for long before Optimus countered hard, sending him back a few paces. Then, it was Optimus' turn to attack, the Prime charged forward and swept downward with much force, Ratchet stopping his blade with his own and keeping it at bay. Optimus was significantly stronger, thus pushed downward and kept up the pressure, forcing Ratchet lower and lower. Ratchet let himself go down only to swing his pede up against Optimus' arm, knocking the pressure back so he could roll away. 

While putting distance between them, he found himself closer to the wall, but before he could move, Optimus was back. There was the repeated clashing of blades, as they met repeatedly, slashing and countering and swiping. Optimus kept upping the force until he delivered one hard slash, sending Ratchet back again, this time his back hitting the wall. The medic grunted at the impact, wincing a little. Just as he made to move forward, strong servos took his wrists and pushed him back, pinning him against the wall. He pulled once, testing the force, but Optimus didn't budge, so he gave up and relaxed, signaling he was defeated. 

His optics lifted and met those of his Prime's. They were watching him intently. He was suddenly aware of how fast his spark was pounding in it's chamber, how vulnerable he was with Optimus pinning him, how close their sparkchambers were to touching, and how Optimus watched him so calmly and so apprehensively. Ratchet's cheeks burned blue, visibly, and he stared up at Optimus with round optics, wondering what would happen next. The Prime's battlemask slipped off, revealing lips pulled into a small smile. Ratchet's spark melted at the sight of it, breath escaping all at once, and Optimus' optics whirled with a soft noise-

"THAT WAS AWESOME!" Miko suddenly shrieked. 

"He lasted longer than I thought he would." Arcee offered. 

Ratchet huffed and squirmed a little; Optimus released him and stepped back. "Well this has been _fun_," Ratchet muttered, "But I have work to do."

His leader smiled at him with benevolence. "Of course. Thank you, Old Friend, it was enjoyable." Whatever that meant. Optimus vanished down the hall, retreating to his room, while Ratchet returned to the monitor. There was a lull in the excitement as Bumblebee gathered all the children to take them home, before the intensity really started, and Ironchrome approached Ratchet cautiously. 

"You were amazing," he said with childlike wonder. "You held strong for a while there. Optimus is no easy opponent, either."

"I know Optimus, I've seen him fight thousands of times. I know what to expect from him." Ratchet replied dismissively. 

"It was incredible to watch. But. . . I'm sorry you were pressured into it. I should have said something, but I didn't want to make it worse. . ."

That caught the medic off guard a little. "It's fine, it doesn't matter."

"It isn't though. . . But at least you were able to show off how badaft you are, I think Bumblebee is a little afraid of you now." And off he went. 

Ratchet appreciated his departure. He was always very careful not to be talking to Ratchet for too long, and careful not to cross any boundaries. He had learned his lesson. 

When Bumblebee returned, Wheeljack had already hauled an unnecessary amount of high grade from his ship. He'd saved a stockpile when the war started, before he departed. Ratchet glanced at the stack of glowing cubes with a sigh. It would be a long night. 

It was Bumblebee's first time drinking high grade. Arcee insisted caution, only allowing him one cube. The others drank like the world would end in the morning. Ratchet wasn't surprised to go to sip at his own regular cube, just to find that Wheeljack had snuck some high grade into it. He shoved it aside with a groan. And then he was dragged over to the group and a new cube of high grade was shoved into his servos. 

"One cube," Wheeljack insisted. What an aft. Ratchet hated it when he visited. 

However, he did drink the cube, but failed to notice when Wheeljack discretely refilled it when he wasn't looking, so really, he had two cubes. Two and a half when Bumblebee didn't want to finish his. By then, his processor couldn't handle numbers or values or amounts. He thought he remembered a third cube being handed to him, and that was the last he could remember before everything became too fuzzy to recall. 

It was no surprise that he ended up stumbling and falling flat on the way to his room. Thank Primus it had been away from the others, where nobody could see him, or so he thought. 

Servos gently lifted him and took some of his weight. "Easy there, let's get you to your room," Chrome muttered. 

"Ugh. . . 'O course it'sss you. . ." Ratchet mumbled in complaint. 

Chrome chuckled a little. "Yeah, sorry. Come on, one pede in front of the other." It was a hard trip down the hall, and Ratchet's room was towards the end of it.

Ratchet looked at Optimus' door longingly. Primus, he wanted attention. Admittedly, he'd been feeling a little fired up since the sparring session. Optimus pinning him against a wall had gotten him going so easily it was a little embarrassing. Frag, he wanted Optimus so badly, he had waited so long, so starved for attention and care. . . 

Unreasonable thoughts were flashing in his helm. He couldn't think straight, his processor was reeling out of control. Part of him wanted to go smash Optimus' door down, but he suppressed the urge. 

He wanted affection. 

He had offered it and had received no answer for so long now. 

He just wanted his leader to notice how much he cared. 

Optimus wouldn't acknowledge him. . . But Primus, he was craving it. . . Perhaps he'd settle for something- someONE else, for now. 

Of course, this was the high grade talking and thinking and egging him on. When he woke in the morning, he'd regret everything. But that didn't deter the unreasonable thoughts running through his spinning processor. 

In a moment of impressive accuracy and control despite his drunken state, Ratchet managed to use his weight to send Chrome into a wall, his mouth finding that of the green mech's, driving their lips together fiercely. Instantly, he felt the conflict in a Chrome. For a brief moment, he felt servos cupping his helm affectionately, appreciation and passion slipping into the kiss, but it only lasted a moment before Chrome pushed him off with a gasp. "Frag. . ." He grabbed the shaken medic and dragged him down the hall towards his room. "Frag frag frag. . ." He opened the door and practically threw the medic onto his berth, before vanishing through the door and down the hall. Ratchet sat there, stunned, processor still trying to catch up. 

He became rather frustrated. Even the mech that wanted him wouldn't take him. Tears of frustration and hurt rolled down his cheeks before he could stop them. This was all because of the high grade, he decided quickly, shifting the blame. The hurt was all of his own, but the desperation and stupid decisions were amplified by the high grade. Frag, he had kissed Chrome, why the frag did he do that?! He hated the mech! 

The morning would be a dreadful one.

  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

Hangovers were far from fun. The ache in Ratchet's helm was almost unbearable, the neausea was enough to drive him mad, and the panic of the previous night was riding his spark faster and faster. What would Chrome think? What if he told someone? What if Optimus found out? 

He was lucky, however. Chrome had been. . . Respectful. He acknowledged the concept of consent- intoxicated consent is not valid consent. Chrome could have easily taken advantage of him, and then what would have happened? He'd wake up after interfacing with the last mech he'd want in his personal life, and his regret would've been doubled. But Chrome had stopped him and left. It was a relief.

But something still had happened between them. 

Frag.

It took a while for him to manage the journey into the main hangar. He wasn't surprised to find he was up before the others, even though he had slept in. Optimus was most likely off doing whatever, being sober and ready to work. There was no energon waiting for Ratchet at the monitors, which suggested Chrome hadn't woken yet. 

The next bot up was Bumblebee, complaining about the effects of the high grade, then Chrome, then Arcee, and then Bulkhead. Ratchet had no idea where Wheeljack was.

He'd have to speak with Chrome.

Luckily, he didn't have to seek him out. The green mech approached, quite and tense. "Hey, so. . ."

"Forget that it ever happened," Ratchet quickly started, "It meant nothing, I was drunk, I wasn't thinking straight-"

"Of course, of course." Chrome smiled weakly. "I'm sorry it happened." No he wasn't. 

"Do not mention it to anyone." The medic narrowed his optics sharply. "Never speak of it again."

"No problem."

"And. . ." This part was harder to say. "Thank you. . . For. . . Doing what you did, and not something else."

A small laugh escaped him. "Of course, Ratch. I don't want you to hate me." 

"Then off you go, there's cleaning up to do." A warm smile answered him, and the enthusiastic mech bounded away, vibrance restored. Ratchet felt better as well. Somehow, the incident made him like the mech more. He still was hesitant; the forceful declaration of affection was too much to ignore, but the immediate regret, sincerity and respect was impressive. Ratchet could name far too many mechs that would've taken him to his berth that night and taken advantage of his poor decisions, many would use it against him in his future, but Chrome, despite genuinely wanting him, showed restraint and respect. 

Ratchet was hating him less and less. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Months passed. Things moved quickly for Ratchet. The entire party ordeal had been forgotten, the only part of it he was willing to remember being the sparring session he had shared with Optimus. He hadn't seen the Prime loosen up like that in a long time. And frag, that smile. . .

There were battles and problems brought up by the Decepticons, per usual, them being in a war. Things were. . . Normal. 

Chrome talked to him more and more as time went on. No mentions of relationships, or any repeats of their rough beginning, just. . . Talk. Asking about one's day, exchanging an entertaining story, assisting the other in a small task. . . They had gone on a couple missions together on the occasion, which had gone easy and painless most of the time. 

Optimus was as hopeless as ever. Ratchet couldn't seem to give up and move on, he only patiently waited, offering kindness and care that he never gave to the others, but none of it had been acknowledged. Nothing unusual. After the night they sparred, Ratchet was certain that Optimus would say SOMETHING to him, he was so sure that they had shared a moment, but it never came. 

He wasn't surprised. 

But still, it was rather depressing.

Maybe that was why, when Chrome asked him if he'd like to go on a drive one night, he said yes. Chrome had been ecstatic, he had offered before, but never recieved a yes. Ratchet made sure they left when nobody was looking, and off they went, under the stars.

It was a little cold, but after a while it was forgotten as they moved across the desert in silence, both admiring the peace. It was nice. Ratchet hadn't left the base simply for fun for as long as he could remember. Chrome suddenly stopped at one point, and he stopped with him, puzzled. 

"Let's just relax and look at the stars," the green mech said as he transformed. Ratchet followed in suit.

"Watch your step, youngling." He chuckled. They both sat and gazed upward.

"Earth has a nice view." Chrome commented. 

"Cybertron had a better one." Ratchet sighed. 

"Yeah, well. . . I'll take what I'll get." Chrome laid back against the dirt. "I like it out here. It's open, quiet. . . Not many places like it on homeworld."

Ratchet smiled a little. "There were different kinds of wonders on Cybertron. The planets are so different, they are incomparable."

There was a moment of silence. "Were you in any relationships before the war?" Chrome asked. 

"Ah, look at me, it should be pretty self explanatory." The medic scoffed, chuckling to himself. Chrome gave him an offended look.

"I don't think that's. . . It's not. . ." He stumbled over words. "I disagree." It came out finally, simple and to the point. "I can imagine there may have been other reasons for you not having a relationship, but not for lack of looks. I happen to find you. . . Alluring, and very handsome, and it upsets me to hear you make self deprecating comments, they aren't true. I don't want you to be self conscious. . ."

"Slow down." Ratchet raised an optic ridge. "It was a joke, I am not self conscious." That was sort of a lie. "And. . . I appreciate your kindness, but you ought to divert it elsewhere."

Chrome slowly smiled at him. "But you need it the most." 

Perhaps that was true. He couldn't remember the last time someone complimented him like THAT. After daydreaming after Optimus for so long, he'd accepted he wasn't much to look at, especially in comparison to the handsome Prime. He had accepted he wasn't good enough, looks and stature together. A prime, and a medic? Unlikely. He sighed.

"You could do better." He gave a small, joyless laugh. "But why are we talking about this? What about you, were you in any relationships?"

"A few, but none really stuck. I just never really got into it." Chrome shrugged. "It just wasn't something I wanted at that point in time." He looked over at Ratchet. "You never answered."

Ratchet thought for a moment before he spoke. "Yes, a few, long, long before. . ."

"Before you met Optimus?"

". . . Y. . . Yes. . . Then after that, there were none." It was strange, having this conversation with him. Opening up to this strange mech was never something he thought he'd do. 

"I don't blame you. He's quite a looker." Chrome joked. 

Ratchet laughed, rolling his optics. For a few seconds, there was only silence. And peace.

They had made peace with one another. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

"Welcome back, Old Friend." Optimus greeted, smiling with gentle benevolence as Ratchet entered the room. He and Chrome had just returned from their peaceful drive; he had prayed that nobody would notice him leaving with Chrome, but it seemed his leader had. The Prime sent a glance in the green mech's direction, before looking back at his medic with a curious look. 

"Just a drive to clear my head," Ratchet said quickly, "Don't think much of it. . . And don't give me that look!" He added with a sharp glare when Optimus raised an optic ridge, in a sort of playful gesture. As playful as the Prime could get, at least. 

"Remember what I said-"

"And remember what I said." He didn't get to finish, Ratchet cut him off and gestured furiously. "I am_ far_ from interested in him, and it's important to me that you remember that."

Optimus shifted his weight. "Understood, Old Friend." He smiled kindly. "I must say, I'm a little relieved. . ."

Ratchet's spark took off like a crazed stallion, and he stared at his leader with confusion, and a shameful amount of hope.

"He seems so far from your type. I was afraid he'd drive you mad." Oh. Frag, that's a little embarassing. It was a gentle joke, something Optimus only reserved for his closest friend, the mech that had known him the longest. It was Ratchet that hints of Orion Pax would come out for. He appreciated the humor and kindness, but his spark dropped, and he felt a little disappointed; he had thought it would go in a completely different direction.

"Can you imagine?" Ratchet played along, laughing a little.

"I think very highly of him, but I do not believe he is meant for you." Optimus' optics reflected his smile, and Ratchet's spark gushed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have reports to log. Good night, Old Friend." The Prime turned and walked off towards the monitor, nodding to his medic. 

Ratchet watched him leave, sighing quietly. There were soft footfalls behind him; he turned around to face Chrome. 

"Everyone else went to their berths. . . Didn't realize it was so late." The green mech said, smiling at him. He looked past him for a moment, at Optimus. "Chief is the last one up."

"Yes, well, perhaps it's a good idea to rest." Ratchet checked the time. Normally, he'd stay up working, but Optimus was using the monitor, and he didn't feel like waiting, he was rather tired. 

"Yes. . ." Chrome nodded, watching him. "Rest sounds nice."

Ratchet turned away from him after nodding, moving in the direction of the hallway. He had only taken a few steps, when an arm snaked around his waist and pulled him back. "Wh-" he started to protest, but the servo moved to cover his mouth, as a sharp twinge of pain nipped at his neck. Something was pushed carefully but swiftly into his neck cabling. 

What?

The needle was removed and dropped on the floor, and the other servo wrapped around him and held him in place. He made a quiet, muffled noise into the servo, and struggled, kicking back. 

His attempted escape only lasted for a few moments before his vision begun to become patchy, blackness invading his optics and sending his processor reeling. "Mmph. . !" He desperately tried to cling on to consciousness, tugging with what strength he had left, but suddenly his legs couldn't support him, and he began to buckle, those strong arms holding him upright. More and more black dominating his vision, his frame becoming more and more weak. . . 

Finally, he slipped for good, falling completely slack against the chestplates of his captor, unconscious. 

It was only darkness after that.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

Awakening to more darkness was a frightening find. Ratchet opened his optics and shifted with a quiet groan, whining as his movement was restricted; his wrists were bound tightly behind his back, his ankles cuffed together. When he tried to move, he found he was bound to a solid form, which his back rested against. When his optics opened, they found only darkness, sealed away by a soft cloth tied around his helm. He had waken bound and blindfolded. 

"Frag. . ." He mumbled, trying to pull his legs apart, testing the strength of the cuffs. They didn't give way.

"Ratchet?" Hearing Optimus' voice sent a thrill of shock through him.

"Optimus! Where are we?" Ratchet tried to turn to face his direction, pulling hard at whatever he was bound to, only to hear a soft noise of pain.

"W-Wait, I think we are bound together." The Prime gave a small, gentle tug on him, testing his theory.

Ratchet felt Optimus pull him, and fell still, letting his back fall against Optimus'. "Can you see anything?"

"No. . . I'm blindfolded. . . What about you?" 

"Blindfolded." The medic sighed heavily. He was tied, back to back with his leader, blindfolded, in Primus knows where. Who had sedated him? It wasn't the Decepticons, and there were only two bots left awake when it had happened, and it wasn't Optimus who did it. . . "Chrome." Ratchet tried to calm his panicked spark. 

"What?"

"Chrome, he was the only mech left that could have done this."

"Are you certain? Why would he?" Ratchet felt Optimus turn his helm a little, an attempt to look at him blindly. 

"I don't know. . ."

"Could he be a Decepticon spy?"

Ratchet shook his helm. "I really don't think that's it, and if he was, Megatron would have found our base long before and we would've been ambushed and killed." He thought for a moment. "I. . . Can't think of a reason why he'd do this. . . He's been so kind to me for the past few months. Even after. . ." A moment of hesitation. He hadn't told Optimus about how Chrome had pressed the desire for a relationship, all that time ago. "He. . . Told me he wanted to pursue me. I told him no, and he argued, and was insistent that he was right for me. After that. . . He had been so careful and respectful. It was the only bad sign I ever noticed in him. He could be angry that I turned him down, but that was so long ago. . . And I don't see the relevance it has to you. . . And either way, why would he go to this level?"

Optimus took a moment to process everything. "I. . . I don't know." He sighed. "We will have to wait and see. . . There's nothing else we can do, we have no idea where we are and what will happen."

". . . Yes. . . We will wait and see." Ratchet agreed, quietly, shifting uncomfortably. His wrists were aching. . .

"You won't have to wait long, Ratch."

Both of their helms snapped in the direction of the voice, tensing against each other. "Chrome. . ?" Ratchet asked quietly. "What's going on?" 

There was the sound of pedes against metal approaching them, and they shied away a little, completely vulnerable. "Ironchrome, why are we here?" Optimus asked in a strong voice; his tone showed confidence and bravery, but Ratchet could feel how tense his back was and how he moved at every sound. 

"Hush, Prime." Chrome muttered, his voice and footfalls circling around them. "Your job is to sit here quietly until I'm done with you." 

A moment of silence. 

"And what of Ratchet?" Optimus questioned evenly. 

"That's no concern of yours, not anymore." Ratchet heard Chrome circle back and stand in front of him. He scooted back and pressed against Optimus more in hopes of putting distance between him and the green mech. Optimus tried to move as well, feeling his medic's distress, but a quiet noise of surprise from Ratchet made him freeze.

A servo had taken Ratchet's chin gently, lifting his blinded gaze a little; there was the movement of plating, Ratchet recognized it as Chrome kneeling in front of him. "Don't be afraid," Chrome murmured as Ratchet jerked his helm from his grip. He gingerly pulled the blindfold off, and their gazes met. 

Ratchet looked around. They were what looked to be a giant bowl, a large faucet looking pipe poking in through a hole in the covered top. There was a square cut out of one side, serving as an entrance. "Where are we? What _is_ this?" Ratchet demanded. 

"You're in a cave. This is all a contraption of mine. . . I will describe the function of it later, it isn't important now." Chrome waved a servo dismissively. "What matters, is why you are here."

"You better have a fragging good reason for bringing us here," Ratchet spat. 

A smile crossed Chrome's lips. "Easy with the language, Ratch." He reached forward and stroked his cheek longingly. 

"_DON'T TOUCH ME_!" The medic snapped, jerking away and hitting his back painfully against that of his Prime's.

"Chrome, leave him be." Optimus ordered, grunting at the impact.

"Shut up." The green mech sent a glare in the direction of Optimus, before looking back down at Ratchet softly. "Easy, now. You do want to know everything, don't you?" 

Ratchet glared at him. 

"Ratchet, you've wasted your energy on Optimus far too long. You've been offering your spark on a silver platter ever since you met him, you've stood by his side at every twist and turn, offering your service and friendship, and even your_ love_. You've loved him for so long, and you've tried so _hard_ to tell him that, it's been a lifetime. . . But has he answered you?"

Optimus fell still and silent. Ratchet tensed up and gritted his denta. Why was Chrome talking about this? Frag, it was embarassing, and awkward. . . The medic averted his gaze, staring coldly at the floor. The silence from his leader was the worst part.

Chrome again took his chin, but in a stronger grip, regarding him with sad optics. "He doesn't love you, Ratchet. He doesn't notice you, doesn't notice how much you care about him. He calls you 'Old Friend,' like you're important, but you aren't special enough to him." The green mech brushed his thumb over Ratchet's lips as he went to protest. "But you are to _me_. I hate seeing you so hurt because he refuses to acknowledge you. It's unhealthy for you to be clinging. . . Which is why you are here. Ratchet, I am going to eradicate your pain." 

Ratchet growled at the digit over his lips, leaning back and away from him as far as he could. Chrome removed his servo and smiled at him. "This is insane! How I feel is none of your concern, especially when your concern leads to abduction! Untie us and let us go!"

"It'll all be over soon." Chrome tilted his helm a little, such kindness in his optics. "You won't have to worry about him anymore, Love."

"What do you mean by that?" The medic snarled. 

"Optimus," the green mech suddenly diverted his attention, rising to his pedes and striding around to Optimus. "I think you owe your medic an apology, before we get started." 

Optimus looked up in the direction of the voice. "Chrome, we ought to work this out in a different way," he said quietly. "You're upsetting Ratchet, and you aren't making much sense, we should- _UNGH_!" He was cut off as a pede struck him hard in the middle, drawing a pained cry from him.

"Apologize to him!" Chrome hissed.

"Stop!" Ratchet yelled, whimpering as Optimus was knocked into him a little. "Chrome, don't!"

Another kick came, but Optimus was more prepared for it, only making a quiet sound. "Apologize!" The green mech ordered, voice raising to a vicious shout.

"Chrome, _stop_, stop hurting him!" Ratchet desperately tried to look over his shoulder, wincing as he pulled at the bindings.

"Prime!" 

A moment of silence. 

"I'm sorry, Old Friend." Optimus said gently to his medic, blindly looking over his shoulder, his abdomen aching from the attack.

"You don't have to be." Ratchet murmured to him. 

Chrome nodded in approval, before returning to Ratchet, kneeling again. "Let's get started now, Love." He said gently. "I know you aren't going to be fond of what I have planned, and I know you intend on fighting me every step of the way. I really don't want to frighten you by using threats, but I need your cooperation." His tone dropped a little. "You will do everything I say, you will not fight, you will cooperate, or the Prime dies. Do you understand?"

Ratchet's spark dropped, and he searched Chrome's gaze desperately, but found no help. He couldn't let Optimus be killed when he had a choice.

"Ratchet. . ." Optimus murmured hesitantly. "Don't. . ."

"You don't have a say." Chrome snapped at him. "Ratchet," he took Ratchet's chin in his servo once again. 

"I'll comply." The medic answered in a small voice. "Just. . . Don't hurt him."

The green mech smiled at him, before uncuffing his ankles.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have chapters up to eighteen pre-written. I will publish one chapter per day until the pre-written material runs out, but rest assured, I am still making new content :) 
> 
> Check back every day to see the new chapter!

Ratchet had been untied and led through the door, while Optimus remained bound on the ground in the center of the bowl. After he had been placed outside of the large contraption, Chrome slipped back in and kneeled in front of Optimus. Ratchet leaned and tried to listen, but he couldn't make out what the green mech was saying. Optimus answered in the same quiet voice, helm lowering a little. What were they talking about? Ratchet straightened up as Chrome returned, exiting the bowl.He didn't speak, only watched worriedly as Chrome pulled a sheet of metal from a wall. "Help me with this, please." He murmured as he propped it up against the hole serving as a doorway. Ratchet slowly approached, blinking.

"What are you doing?"

"I need you to weld this on, it has to be sealed." The green mech gestured for him to come closer. "Quickly, please, we don't have much time." 

Ratchet transformed his servo into a welder and began working, ignoring the gaze resting on him. "Why does it have to be sealed?" He asked quietly. 

"If it isn't sealed, it will leak." Chrome replied. "It has to be able to hold liquid." 

This earned him a look. "What do you mean?"

"Just wait a moment, I'll explain it to you." 

Ratchet sighed and went as quickly as possible, welding the panel to the side of the bowl until Chrome praised and thanked him. He had been careful, however; for a moment, Chrome had moved away to grab something from a nearby table, and he had left a small portion of the panel unwelded, a desperate hope that Optimus could escape somehow. Chrome didn't notice. Once he had finished, the medic stepped away and examined the cave clearing; there was a table and a berth resting at the far wall, and a couple boxes on the floor, cluttered with various belongings. 

Chrome approached him with a boxy, beaten object in servo; he smiled at Ratchet and held it out so he could see. "An old music player, from way before the war. I had it saved, and by some miracle I was able to preserve it and take it onto my ship. It's a little rickety, but it'll play." 

Ratchet stared at it for a moment. It was cracked and dusty. "And why is it relevant?" He asked in a low tone.

The sparkle never left Chrome's eyes. Instead of answering, he set it on the floor against the wall, slipping an old disc into it and pressing a couple buttons gently, as to not break it. A few moments later, an old cybertronian tune echoed sweetly through the cave, and Chrome strode back over.

Ratchet remembered hearing songs like it. It was a medium, between upbeat and a low, a song that would be played for the ballroom floor. The wealthier cybertronians often attended and hosted balls, Ratchet had been to one or two in the past through some of his connections, and was certain this song had been played at one of them. 

A servo took his, and he cringed nervously as he was pulled to the center of the clearing. "Chrome. . ." He murmured hesitantly.

"Dance with me, Ratch." Ironchrome beamed at him. "I'm quite the dancer, I think you'll be impressed."

"I don't think- Watch it!" One servo drifted and rested at his waist, while the other nudged his own servo up to hold Chrome's shoulder. Their two free servos were intertwined. He immediately made to move away, but was gently tugged back. 

"Just one dance." Chrome insisted.

Ratchet glared at him. "If I dance with you, will you let Optimus go?" 

The green mech vented and smiled at him. "At the moment, Optimus' well being depends on your actions, remember?" Ratchet narrowed his optics and looked away. He didn't take to Chrome using Optimus as a way to make him obey. "I truly don't like threatening you, but I think you'll have fun if you just try." 

"Frag you. . ."

"When it's just you and me, we'll spend many nights together like this, dancing and laughing. . . You'll be happy, Ratchet."

A disgusted noise escaped Ratchet, and he pulled away, harder this time, stumbling back.

"Easy," the green mech said softly, taking a gentle hold on Ratchet's wrist to stop him from escaping. "Take a deep breath, Ratch. . . I'm not going to hurt you." Ratchet stood frozen, too afraid to resist or attempt to flee. Optimus was in the next room, if he could get to him. . . But Chrome was stronger, and faster, and armed, there's no way he could make it by him. Gentle servos pulled him closer, one resting on his waist and the other holding his own servo. 

His free servo braced against Chrome's chest to keep their frames apart as they began. Chrome twirled him about to the music, turning in slow circles, swaying, all the while watching Ratchet's face with a tender smile.

"I loved to dance before the war." The green mech spoke in such a sweet, loving voice. . . "It was one of my favorite pastimes." He spun Ratchet around with a soft chuckle. "I imagine you'd be a fine dancer, but you seem rather tense. . ."

"Chrome, you have to stop this and let us go," Ratchet said shakily, flinching as the servo returned to his waist. 

A sigh answered him. "So he can track us down and come between us once again? I think not. Your love for him will die with him tonight. This will be good for us." The beat sped up, as did the steps to the dance, and Ratchet had to put effort into not stumbling now. 

"Chrome. . ." Ratchet pleaded. 

The steps continued, twirling and taking elaborate steps and making beautiful patterns, all the while Ratchet began to panic immensely. "Just think, Ratchet. Once we're done here, we'll run away together. . . Once we've got enough energon, we will leave on my ship. Perhaps we'll find another planet." Another spin. "We will live quietly, just you and me, in the peace, not to be bothered by the war, or distractions." Chrome's smile grew. "Perhaps, it'll be just you and me initially. . . But in time, when we are ready, perhaps we'll have children. I've always loved sparklings and young ones, to have my own has been such a distant desire, but I can see it so clearly now."

Frag. . . "I'm not leaving with you," Ratchet shook his helm, "And I'm certainly not having sparklings with you. . . I'm not doing _ anything _with you." His voice shook a little. All of this was so unsettling to hear.

"We shall see." Chrome chuckled, executing a marvelous spin. The song was beginning to slow, approaching the end. 

Just as it softened and began to fade, Chrome dipped Ratchet, pushing him low enough to where he depended on Chrome's support to keep him from falling. Ratchet shuddered at the servo holding his waist, imagining what that servo could do to him so easily.

"Ratchet," Chrome murmured. Ratchet stared up at him with terrified optics. "I am going to terminate Optimus."

The medic had assumed this was coming, but the confirmation sent panic and fear through him in harsh waves. "N-No. . . Chrome, don't, you don't have to. . ."

"As long as he lives, your love for him thrives. Once I sever that link, it will fall apart, and your spark will be ready to move on. You will be ready to love me." The green mech's kind smile seemed more sadistic than ever. 

Panic. Fear. Distress. 

Ratchet's processor threw itself upside down searching for a solution. If Chrome intended on killing Optimus, there had to be _ something _he could do to stop it, to convince him otherwise. Taking him down wasn't an option, Chrome was a skilled warrior, and had a size advantage over him. He had to persuade Chrome to spare his Prime. 

He tried to calm his pounding spark. He didn't want to do this. However, when was there something he wouldn't do for Optimus?

One of his servos reached up and caught the back of Chrome's helm, pulling himself up to kiss him. Their mouths met roughly, Ratchet immediately forcing himself to melt into it, glossa tangling with Chrome's, cupping his helm with both servos and whimpering desperately into the green mech's mouth. Chrome embraced him tighter, making a quiet sound of affection, pushing their frames together. Ratchet could feel his spark beat. . . 

He broke the kiss, trailing his lips down his jaw and nibbling softly at his neck cabling, teasing what he could, clinging to the green mech and making mock sounds of approval and fire. Chrome groaned softly, purring. His denta found the sweet spot he'd been searching for, confirmed by a deep noise from Chrome's throat. He nibbled roughly, teasing, closing his optics and desperately try to think about Optimus. Chrome's knees weakened a little, and he slowly lowered Ratchet down, until he rested against the ground, the green mech hovering over him. Chrome's servos stroked down his sides, to his legs, then back up again, moving along the curves of his frame. Shivering, Ratchet made a convincing but fake noise of pleasure.

"Chrome. . ." He mumbled against the mech's neck. He gasped as the roaming servos explored his aft seductively. 

"I love you. . ." That was sickening to hear.

Their mouths met again, and Chrome's frame pressed up against his, harder this time. Ratchet hooked a leg up around his hip, cringing at how hot the mech felt as their panels grazed against each other's. 

Chrome broke the kiss and left a trail of gentle kisses down his cheek to his jaw. "So beautiful. . ." 

Ratchet pulled back slowly, exhaling. "Chrome, I'll go with you," he said softly, "No fighting, just you and me, together, just like you said." The green mech stroked his cheek. "But you have to let Optimus live. If you spare him, I'm yours. I don't desire him, I just worry about the others, in this war. . . They need him, Chrome. Just let him go, and I'll leave with you, I won't resist, I will be the mate you want me to be." He tried his best to keep his face gentle, but frag, he was embarrassed and disgusted and so, so afraid. 

The green mech sighed sadly. He stood, getting off of Ratchet, before gently taking hold of his wrist and pulling him upright. The medic flinched away from the grip fearfully. "I'm afraid he must die, Love. You desire him more than anything, I see right through that lie. You aren't kissing me for me, you're kissing me for_ him _. Not for long, though." He pulled something out from his subspace. Ratchet recognized the needle immediately. 

"N-No!"

After a bit of wrestling and protests, it was plunged into his neck. 

Sedated, again.

Chrome straightened up and strode to the welded bowl. Ratchet swayed on his pedes a bit. "There is a faucet in the top of the bowl. Above it, a tank. In that tank is a mixture of several earth acids. I was very much dismayed to find that the acids this planet contained weren't very strong, not enough to do much damage to a cybertronian. I wanted quick and effective. I did some mixing, and a little chemistry. . . You know, hydroiodic acid, nitric acid, scrap like that. . . And after a month, I had created an acid strong enough to dissolve a bot of Cybertron. It takes a full twenty four hours, a rather slow way to go, but I managed. You have no idea how hard it was to get my servos on all of it without being noticed, but I have my ways. Now, containing it, that was the really hard part. I managed, however. The thickest, strongest, acid resistant container ever made." He patted the smooth side of the bowl. "I'll flip the switch, the tanks will release, the bowl will fill up, and in a full day cycle. . ."

Ratchet had collapsed to his knees, his vision darkening in splotches, barely clinging to what the green mech was saying. . . 

"Chrome. . . P-Please. . ." He sputtered, struggling to stay conscious. "Please, let him g-go. . ." His servos slid a bit on the floor, weakening, unable to hold him. "Please. . ." The panic in his spark had made it to his optics, and a couple stray tears ran down his cheeks, hot against his faceplates. 

"Rest now, Ratchet. All will be better when you wake." 

He slipped.

And into the depths of stasis, he fell.


	13. Chapter 13

Optimus' energon turned cold when he felt Chrome detach Ratchet's binding from his, and heard his medic be dragged away. Blinded, he was completely helpless to assist Ratchet, or even himself. Hearing Chrome stride back over to him admittedly made him panic a little. The green mech knelt in front of him. "It really is a shame. You are an impressive mech, the Autobot cause will be short a strong leader. It almost makes me hesitate." He sighed. "You've got to go, though. I know you care for Ratchet, more than the others, just not quite enough. . . Do not worry, I will take good care of him."

Optimus lowered his helm to disguise the look of discomfort plaguing his features. "Do not harm Ratchet. Let him go. Do anything you please to me, but you must let him go." He closed his optics beneath the blindfold and vented softly. "You have misunderstood much of our history and relationship." Only silence answered him, and then Chrome was gone.

He heard the sound of welding, and muffled voices. He had been sealed within something. . . But what?

Time passed. He was uncomfortable, the bindings were digging into his wrists and ankles, and he hadn't moved in so long. . . Slowly, as to not create too much noise from his movement, he shifted, pulling his legs through the space between his arms so his wrists could be in front of him. The blindfold was discarded immediately. Perhaps he could untie himself. . .

Outside, there was quiet. . . Music playing?

His servos picked at the bindings around his ankles. If he could find a sharp bit of plating on his arms, he could try to saw them off. . . Better yet, if he could transform his servos. . . But they were tied tight to prevent that from happening. . .

Primus, how would he get out of this. . . He knew Chrome intended on killing him, but he had no idea when, or how. . . And who knew what he intended for Ratchet.

Optimus didn't know how long he was working on his ankle bindings, but a noise interrupting him. There was a running water sound directly above him. . .

Water suddenly came down on him hard, a consistent fall, he hadn't noticed there was a pipe above his helm. . .

Frag, that's not water-!

After a few seconds, it had begun to burn; he rolled away with a gasp, moving until he hit the wall. What was that? It didn't stop coming, and he had a horrible thought of it filling the container he was in. Untying himself was a bigger priority now.

He frantically tugged at the bindings, rubbing them against whatever sharp edges he could find-

Snap!

His ankles were freed. He stood and pulled at the bindings on his wrists, finding a sharp edge on the back of his leg and working it hard. A puddle was forming on the floor, getting bigger by the second. His plating was wet, and still burning. . .

The entire bottom of the container had been covered by the burning liquid by the time the last bindings broke. He frantically moved to the welding job, whining in pain. His pedes were on fire. He felt along the weld for weak points, careful to make little noise. Ratchet had done it, under Chrome's supervision. Perhaps his medic had left him a way to escape, but would Chrome have noticed?

Primus.

There was a small stretch left unwelded.

What would he do without his medic?

Optimus was able to peel the unwelded section out with difficulty, the walls were made strong to hold the acid- or what he assumed was acid. From there, he shifted to where he could push down against the weld, using all his weight to try to peel it down enough so he could slip through. Once it was on the lower side, he jammed a pede in and used his full weight to shove it down, gasping in pain. The acid had risen to his calves, he had been working on the weld for so long. . .

It was hard not to scream as he forced himself through the tiny space, the acid nipped at his knees and frag, it burned.

He fell to the floor with a grunt as he jerked himself free.

He had escaped.

Standing up, Optimus took in the surroundings of the cave. As his optics fell upon the far wall, and an unconscious form resting on a berth, panic surged through him. He quickly moved to Ratchet's side, hesitant to touch him when he was covered acid. "Ratchet?" He asked, hoping to wake him.

"How the frag did you get out. . ?"

The Prime spun around to face Chrome, gritting his denta. The green mech had just entered, a small stack of energon cubes in servo, which were set on the ground immediately. "What did you do to-"

"He's been sedated. When he wakes, we will have left, unless of course there are. . . Difficulties. . ." Chrome's servo transformed into a blade. "You wouldn't want to be a burden now, would you, Prime?"

Optimus brought out his own blades, battle mask sliding over his mouth. "I will not allow you to leave Earth with my medic."

"We will see. I am quite determined."

Without another word, the two charged one another. Anger had sparked in Optimus' optics, and admittedly was fueling him against the constant burning. This mech had to be stopped. It was unsettling, how much fury welled up inside him; perhaps it was personal to him. Hearing Chrome talk about Ratchet in the terrifying, nervewracking manner had made him panic and light the more. . . Protective side of his spark. Chrome was a decent warrior, however, defeating him may be somewhat of a challenge. And his plating was still burning furiously. . . He'd have to make this quick.

Their blades connected with a loud clash, Chrome's pede made for his abdomen, but his free servo caught it by the ankle, and Chrome was thrown to the side. Before the green mech could recover, he brought the blade down against his shoulder, leaving a deep gash and drawing a shriek of pain. A kick from his large pede in the center of Chrome's chest plating sent the mech against the floor, hard. This was easier than he thought it'd be.

When he made to pin the green mech with his pede, a blade was stabbed into it's base, and he withdrew with a cry, moving back. Chrome leapt up and lunged, bringing his blade down against the Prime's again, his other blade swiping and slicing across his chestplating, frighteningly close to his spark chamber. He moved back; Chrome made to lunge again, but one of Optimus' servos transformed to a blaster, and he fired one shot to his middle, sending Chrome back again. He rushed him then; not giving him time to recover before he was slashing his blade back and forth, sometimes being countered, but mostly delivering gashes across the green mech and sending him back further and further. Energon was everywhere, and he felt a little sick from the splatters against his arms.

Finally, he delivered one more, massive slash across Chrome's sparkchamber, not cutting deep enough to harm his spark, but destroying the outer layer of it's casing.

"N-gh-h. . . Optkim. . .ugs. . ." He sputtered, mouth filled with his own energon. "W-aigt. . ."

Optimus hesitated, watching him. He had gotten carried away in his fury. The mech badly injured, his energon spilling nearly as fast as the acid. He wouldn't like terminating the mech in cold blood, keeping him captive was more civil, but they already had enough bots to feed. . .

It didn't matter.

He would not kill a mech in cold blood.

The cuffs that had bound Ratchet were near the container. Optimus cuffed the green mech to a leg of the berth, which wouldn't stop him if he really struggled, but in his weakened state. . . Later, he would return for the green mech.

It was over surprisingly fast.

Cheome was a good warrior, but he hadn't been a match for Optimus.

Optimus looked to Ratchet, who hadn't moved or waken. He approached, venting quietly. If he woke the medic, he would be fighting stasis, and probably wouldn't be able to walk on his own. It'd be the equivalent of walking a drunk friend home. Optimus decided against it. One arm slid under Ratchet's back, and the other his legs, and he was lifted like a groom would lift a bride. Optimus would call for a groundbridge once he was out of the cave, and move quickly so Ratchet didn't get burned by the acid that was eating at his frame. Then he would wash the acid from his frame, and wait for Ratchet to wake.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get what we want~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings-  
Implied Interfacing  
Some good ol' FLUFF

Morning light hadn't shown itself when Optimus strode through the groundbridge, his medic asleep in his arms. Arcee stood at the controls, staring at him, puzzled. He had emergency contacted her, waking her from slumber, so she could bridge them back. "What happened? Is he alright?" She took a few worried steps towards him.

"He is alright. Go back to your berth, I will inform you in the morning." Optimus tried to be gentle in his tone, but as pain was nipping at his senses, it came as a challenge. "Please." He added kindly. Arcee hesitantly nodded and left. 

He carried Ratchet into the medbay, laying him down on the examination berth as gently as he could, watching the still form with soft optics. In one of the boxes in the cave, he had found a blanket that Chrome had packed. This made it possible for him to carry Ratchet without exposing him to the acid, at least not very much. Ratchet could bathe when he woke.

Leaving the medic to sleep off the rest of the sedative, he made for the washracks, hastily diving under the shower of cold oil and sighing in relief as the acid was cleansed from his frame. Slowly, he lowered to sit, careful not to block the drain, letting the oil pass over his agitated plating. He would need touch ups on his paintjob, if the opportunity presented itself. He never cared much about his own looks, but the acid had eaten the color off in many parts. 

Rinsing the energon off of his servos and arms made him wince; he felt that he had been rather violent in battling Chrome. But the sting of his own wounds stifled the feeling ever so slightly. The cut across his chestplating hadn't been very bad, and had stopped bleeding earlier. He cleaned it with little pain. His pede, now, that hurt. Chrome had jabbed his blade straight up into it, and while it didn't bleed out too much, it was a bother to walk with. Ratchet could give him something for the pain and properly clean it when he had the chance. 

Ratchet. . . 

There was a lot to think about when it came to Ratchet. 

The cold water, while initially soothing, had begun to be uncomfortable. He turned up the heat rather high, venting quietly. The warmth was relaxing. 

How long had he been sitting on the floor? 

The Prime heard pedesteps in the hall, outside the washrack door, and he stepped out of the shower and opened it quickly, dismissing the fact that he was soaked and making a mess. Ratchet jumped in surprise, spinning around. He had been in there for a rather long time, if his medic was up and moving. . .

"Optimus!" Ratchet gasped. "What happened? How did. . . But Chrome. . . I don't remember-"

"Chrome has been handled, Old Friend." Keeping his voice as gentle as possible, Optimus informed him. "I got out of the container, and we engaged, and. . . I left him in the cave, I will deal with him later. . ." He shook his helm. "And then I brought you here. It's in the early hours of the morning, now. Everyone else is asleep." 

The medic sighed heavily in relief. "Oh thank Primus. . . I. . . He was going to kill you. . . Please, forget what he said, ignore everything he told you, he wasn't right in the helm, I'm  _ so _ sorry. . ." He rambled, averting his optics. 

"We can discuss what he told us later, perhaps with energon and better surroundings." Optimus offered. 

Ratchet gave a small nod, staring at his pedes awkwardly. "You left the oil on." He wanted an excuse to run off and scream into a pillow and wallow in all his regrets. . . 

Optimus cast a glance behind him, back in to the washracks. "Indeed. . . I ought to return before too much oil is wasted. . ." He watched Ratchet closely, how panicked and uncomfortable he seemed. Admittedly, it was rather cute, flustered like a youngling. 

He was careful to speak clearly as he added:

"Would you like to join me?"

Shocked optics met his kind ones. He smiled a little, but it came off more suggestive than benevolent. Ratchet sputtered, "I-I. . . Optimus, you don't have to do this. I don't. . . I don't want to make you, out of guilt. . ."

"You're right," the Prime murmured in agreement, "I don't have to do this. . . But I certainly want to." His optics whirled as bright blue spread across Ratchet's cheeks. Adorable. "I want to. . .  _ Very much _ . . ." 

Ratchet stared at him with obvious confliction. The Prime offered a servo, palm facing the ceiling, a gentle and inviting gesture. His spark sang when Ratchet slowly placed his own servo on top of it.

Optimus pulled him into the washracks gently, closing the door and locking it, before facing his flustered medic. Steam had collected, creating soft clouds that billowed around them. "I-It's rather warm in here." Ratchet mumbled. 

Strong servos slid under Ratchet's thighs and lifted him, so they could be level. Ratchet wrapped his legs around his Prime's waist to hold on, blushing furiously. "It is, isn't it?" Optimus replied as he stepped under the hot stream of oil, gently pushing Ratchet's back against the wall. The medic made a quiet noise as the hot oil hit him, squirming a little before he adjusted to the heat.

"Primus, are you trying to boil me alive?" There was the fiery side, that made the smaller mech so humorous. He had wondered where it had gone. Optimus purred into his audio receptor. 

No more wasting time. The Prime's lips pressed to his medic's, a low growl sounding from his throat, and Ratchet kissed him back slowly. Servos stroked his helm and jaw, passion flowing through both of them. Optimus made a noise of affection when Ratchet's glossa brushed against his mouth; he parted his lips, and the kiss intensified, their glossia fought for dominance. The medic's won, and victoriously explored everything it could. Optimus' engines rumbled in excitement. His medic had a talented glossa. . . 

The whine that left Ratchet when Optimus broke the kiss went straight to Optimus' panel. He dipped his helm and nipped Ratchet's jaw affectionately, grazing his denta fiercely, moving down to his neck cabling, growling in satisfaction when his denta made marks on the delicate cables. "A-Ah! Well don't make it too obvious!" Ratchet tilted his helm back, gasping. "I don't want to- FRAG! Have to explain why I have fraggin' bite marks!" He yelped as Optimus lifted him more, now teasing sensitive crevices in his armor along his chestplating. 

"Oh, but I do like marking you," Optimus kissed his sparkchamber. "I suppose it's a more primal side of me, I read once about how a predacon would mark it's mate, as to claim them. . ."

Ratchet shivered. "It may have escaped your notice, but you are not a predacon."

The Prime chuckled softly, moving back up to kiss his forehelm. "At least, not outside of the berth."

"Never saw you as one who would make crude jokes."

They kissed again, gentler this time. Optimus pressed their frames together tightly, stroking a servo down the medic's side, to brush his hip and give his aft a small pinch. Ratchet squeaked into his mouth, playfully swatting him. Barely parting their mouths, he murmured, "Are you sure you're alright with this?" Hesitation. Optimus had wondered when it would make an appearance. Ratchet was afraid of taking advantage of him, or Optimus doing it out of guilt. Ratchet was feeling guilty for accepting the offer, he had yet to understand why the Prime was doing this. 

Optimus lowered him a little so their panels could brush, claiming his medic's lips again. Ratchet moaned and gripped him, whimpering. "Do you want me, Old Friend?" 

"F-Frag. . ." The medic let his helm fall back and hit the wall. "Yes. . ." 

The beaming smile Optimus wore was bright enough to replace the Earth's sun. He kissed one of the marks he had left on those sensitive neck cables. "Then you shall have me, Old Friend."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Ratchet had no idea why he was here.

He had assumed that Optimus would frag him and that would be that, they'd never speak of it again, and their relationship would be permanently awkward. A pity frag wasn't what he wanted, but he couldn't deny it, it could've been the only chance he had.

And now, he sat on the edge of the Prime's berth, confused, awkward, and admittedly, sore, as Optimus rummaged through his desk drawers.

"Here," the Prime said quietly to himself, pulling a battered, old datapad from the bottom drawer. "I knew I'd saved it." He looked at Ratchet with a sad smile. "Read this, please?"

"I don't understand." Ratchet took it from him, turning it on. 

Optimus leaned against the wall. "You will." 

Not knowing what to expect, Ratchet began reading with a sigh. 

It was a report, an old one, from just after Cybertron went dark. Just after Optimus had become a Prime. A report on the termination of almost an entire Autobot base, led by a commander, who's name Ratchet vaguely recognized. It began with background on the large team, and the commander, and the commander's mate. Ratchet's jaw set, as the report described the capture of the commander's mate, taken in by the Decepticons as a hostage. The commander gave in without hesitation to save his mate, compromising his team's safety in doing so, going as far as giving up the location of their headquarters. He'd fallen into the trick. His team was killed off the day he handed the information over, along with him and his mate. Four had survived. Four out of one hundred and fifty three. It had happened because he had tried to save his mate. 

The report was sickening, the details were too much, and Primus, the pictures. Ratchet lowered the datapad and shook his helm. "I recall hearing about this," he murmured, "But I never got the details." 

"I knew him." Optimus watched his face closely. "And his mate. I had put him in charge of that team." 

"I'm sorry," the medic said gently, looking up at him. "I'm very sorry."

"I suppose you're wondering why I showed this to you."

A nod answered him.

Optimus straightened up. "If I am correct, you first started expressing a. . . Desire, to pursue me, just before the war started?" Ratchet nodded uncomfortably. "Not long after, I had become a Prime. So much had been going on, I hadn't thought to respond. Things were happening so fast. . ." He sighed. "I became so wrapped up in the fighting, and my new role, I neglected to think of it. And then, this happened. . ." He gestured to the datapad. "And I grew fearful. He, his mate, and his entire team, dead, because the Decepticons found out who his mate was. They knew he was a mech of authority, and they found a way to break him. It. . . It scared me, seeing someone I knew be taken down in such a way. . . I never thought Megatron was capable. . ." He shook his helm. "And then, I realised how serious you were." 

"I brought it up before that meeting," Ratchet covered his face and groaned. 

"Your face was bright blue, and your servos were fiddling." Optimus smiled at him. "Still a youngling at spark." He shifted his weight. "And then we were interrupted, and I never answered you. We let it drop, and it wasn't brought up again. Only. . . Hinted." Ratchet huffed, pretending that he wasn't blushing madly. "I wanted to give you that answer, but I was terrified. What if Megatron found out that I was in love with my medic?" Ratchet stiffened at that part, staring at him in shock. "What if what happened to that commander happened to me? What if Megatron used you to get to me? I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you, because of me. . . So I never told you yes. And I never told you no, either. It was so selfish of me. . . I didn't want you to move on or stop wanting me, and that was so, so wrong. . . I feel so guilty and so horrible, for holding on like this, I just. . . I didn't want to push you away. . ." Now his gaze fell to the floor, shame pooling in his optics. "I'm sorry. I've led you on, I've hurt you. . . And then, Chrome was going to terminate me and take you, and he was going on about how I didn't love you and I didn't care about you enough. . ."

"I. . . I don't. . ." Ratchet stumbled for words. "I don't. . . Understand. . ."

The Prime knelt down in front of him. "Do you still love me?" 

It came out of the blue, but Ratchet didn't falter. "More than anything." He watched him cautiously. 

"Will you allow me to. . . Fix my previous mistakes?" 

"Oh, Primus. . ." Ratchet hated to admit that tears were beginning to form in his optics. "I. . . I want that very badly. . ."

Optimus kissed him, pushing him back to lay against the berth. Ratchet ran his servos down the strong build hovering above him, exploring the curves of his frame, purring softly. Large servos nudged at his legs, and Ratchet wrapped his legs around Optimus' hips so the Prime could settle in. "I need to be able to walk tomorrow," the medic warned as the Prime got comfortable. 

Optimus stroked his side, stopping at his hip, taking in the details of his medic's frame. In the washracks, he hadn't been in a good position to really look at Ratchet's body, but now, with his medic laid out before him. . . "Green paint. . ." He murmured, tapping on a paint transfer, located on the front of Ratchet's hip, near his panel. He slowly looked up at Ratchet, fear bleeding into his optics. "He didn't-"

"No, no. Nothing like that. A. . . Passionate moment, that's all. . ." Ratchet blushed. "I. . . Was attempting to seduce him in exchange for your release." 

Optimus' optics softened. "I despise the idea of him touching you. He'll never get the chance again." He nuzzled Ratchet's chestplating. "If he even attempts to utter a word to you, he'll answer to me." He nipped affectionately.

"My hero." Ratchet smiled, watching him. The Prime's denta found his neck again, a little rougher this time, claiming a sensitive cable and drawing a gasp. "My hero indeed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying so far
> 
> There's much more to come~


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this is a really short chapter, I'll give ye two chapters :)))

If someone had told Ratchet he would be waking in his Prime's berth one morning, he'd never have believed them. He'd have thought of it longingly, dreaming of the day, but he would never have imagined it becoming reality. 

But there he was, helm resting against his leader's chestplating, a protective arm around him, holding him gently. Ratchet shifted and vented quietly, spark pulsing a giddy beat. Frag, he was sore. . . And needed a cleaning. 

"Good morning." A servo stroked his cheek lightly, before moving down to stroke his side affectionately. 

"Good morning." Ratchet returned softly, looking up at him. "How do you feel?" He ran his digit along an area of plating that the acid had eaten at badly. 

Optimus shifted, rolling to his side so he could gaze at his medic completely. "Infatuated." He replied simply. Ratchet's cheeks warmed a little. "And you?"

"Absolutely smitten." He smiled. "And. . . Sore." 

The Prime pressed a kiss to his forehelm, rubbing his back gently, digits dipping between seams and petting what he could find. His medic purred affectionately, engines humming. "Do I have to carry you everywhere?" 

"That'd be humiliating." Ratchet rolled his optics. He raised an optic ridge as the servo drifted lower, discreetly moving over his aft. "You act like such a youngling." He scoffed at the innocent look his Prime gave him. 

"Are you complaining?"

Ratchet leaned in and kissed him softly. "No," he murmured against his leader's lips, "No. . ." It deepened, Optimus pulling him tight against his frame, one servo still cupping his aft suggestively. "I still hardly believe it," Ratchet purred as Optimus' lips moved along his cheek to his jaw. 

"Mm?"

"You. . . Us. Yesterday, this was all a hopeless dream, and now. . ." He smiled as Optimus nuzzled him gently. 

"Do you often dream of me?"

Ratchet whined at the playful tone. "You have no idea. I've been hopelessly in love for so long." 

"Not hopeless anymore." The Prime beamed at him, optics sparkling with affection. 

"No, not anymore." His medic sighed with a relaxed smile, stroking his helm. 

They laid quietly for a moment, cuddled up against one another, bathing in the soft silence, before Optimus reluctantly sat up. "I need to return to Chrome," he explained grimly. "I left him bound in the cave. He wasn't restrained well, but the condition he was in is critical, I have doubts he moved. He may not have made it through the night. If he is still alive, we will hold him here until we know what to do." 

Ratchet watched him as he stood, quickly cleaning himself with a rag as much as he could. "Will you be alright?" He asked softly.

His Prime smiled at him. "Of course. I am well equipped to handle him, and I intend on keeping him from setting eye on you as much as possible." He strode to the door, stopping for a moment. "Answer however you feel, if one of the others catches you leaving my quarters." His optics shone like Orion Pax's for a moment. "What would they say?"

"Lucky medic." Ratchet chuckled, waving him off. "Go on, I'll get cleaned up and heat up some energon for when you return. Don't be long." Optimus hurried off, sending his medic one last benevolent smile. 

  
  
  
  
  


The cave was eerily silent. Acid had flowed through Optimus' escape hole and had flooded parts of the floor, and had destroyed a couple of boxes. He barely recognized an eaten music player. That was hardly a concern to him, however-

Chrome was gone. The berth he had been cuffed to had been shifted; Optimus had thought he wouldn't be strong enough to lift it to escape, but he regretted that confidence now. There was a trail of energon leading to the entrance of the cave, and a few strides, but then the trail abruptly ended. 

This wasn't good. 


	16. Chapter 16

Ratchet was horrified that Chrome had escaped. 

What if he went to the Decepticons, with full knowledge of the Autobot base? 

There was so much he could do, so much harm he could inflict, and they had no idea where he was. He had moved his ship after fixing it, evidently using some cloaking device he had obtained in the war and had it near the cave for the escape. And now, he had vanished. 

The other Autobots were concerned when the green mech was nowhere to be seen. Arcee was insistent that the events of the previous night be explained, having seen Optimus bring home an unconscious Ratchet. She had approached Ratchet as he left the washracks.

"Ratchet," she called, barely catching him as he stepped through the washracks door. He stopped and looked at her. Quickly approaching, she asked, "What happened last night? Where were you and Optimus? And where's Chrome?" Bumblebee appeared at her flank, looking curious and interested. 

Ratchet sighed, leaning his back against the doorframe. "That's a question for Optimus. I was unconscious for most of it." He pushed past them, in the direction of the monitor, where Optimus stood, conversing with Bulkhead. He caught the last bit of the conversation before they both turned and acknowledged his arrival.

"Did anything else disappear?"

"No, just some of the high grade and a couple datapads."

Optimus nodded grimly, before his gaze moved to his medic, who had two others following him like curious ducklings. "Now that we are all together," he raised his voice as to speak to all of them. "I would like to explain the events of last night."

"What happened?" Bulkhead gave him a puzzled look. 

"And why was Ratchet unconscious?" Arcee added in. 

::Did Chrome have something to do with it?::

Ratchet and his leader shared a look before Optimus continued. "Last night, Ratchet and I were sedated and taken to a cave that Ironchrome had prepared. He attempted to terminate the two of us." Ratchet wasn't surprised that his leader kept most of the truth out of it, it was very personal. "Ratchet was sedated for a second time, thus was unconscious. Soon after, I managed to escape and engage Ironchrome, leaving him in critical condition. I left him in the cave to get both myself and Ratchet to safety, and he fled." 

There was a stunned silence. 

"Why? Why did he do it?" Arcee was the first to speak. 

Ratchet shook his helm. "It was unclear." He exchanged another look with his leader. "We think it had something to do with the Decepticons."

"If any of you see or hear from him, notify me immediately. He is a threat. He knows the location of the base, and we have no control over what he does with that knowledge." With a curt nod, Optimus ended the conversation. The others seemed to want to know more, but the look Optimus had silenced them and sent them off. "Ratchet, may I speak with you?" He asked quietly. Ratchet nodded, and they moved around the corner. 

"You didn't give them much. They'll be pushy for details as long as we live." The medic mumbled irritably. He didn't want the others to know what went on, he hated the idea of them knowing the words exchanged and the motives behind the capture. It was personal and humiliating. 

Optimus gave a soft vent. "They are right to worry." He set his jaw and thought for a moment. "Bulkhead noticed that some of the high grade energon Wheeljack left, and some datapads went missing. I believe that Chrome had been collecting things before putting his plan in motion. I asked Bulkhead what datapads had gone missing, and he said that most of them were war reports and entries, and some reports from medical centers. It didn't mean anything to Bulkhead, but the datapads that disappeared all had some relation to either you or me, or both." 

A noise of disgust escaped Ratchet. "I'm not surprised." He averted his optics for a moment. "The high grade has some significance. When Wheeljack threw his 'party,' I got. . . Particularly overcharged, and came on to Chrome." Optimus frowned for a moment. 

"How far did-"

"We didn't interface, thank Primus." He was cut off quickly. "But I can't help but feel the high grade has relation to that." 

The Prime gave a small nod, servos taking his medics gently, thumbs stroking lightly. "There is a possibility that he fled entirely. If he went offworld, we won't have to worry, for now, at least."

"We'll see." Ratchet let his gaze fall, watching their intertwined servos in silence, optics whirling in thought. They stood quiet for a few moments, thinking, basking in one another's presence. 

And then Ratchet was tenderly pressed against the wall, servos cupping his face and a pair of soft lips sealing over his own. He placed his servos on his Prime's shoulders, pulling him deeper into the kiss, humming affectionately. 

And like that, it ended, and Ratchet was leading the way back to the main hangar. His spark had sped up to a giddy pace, cheeks warmed ever so slightly. It was exciting to think about- waking up next to Optimus, sneaking kisses when the others couldn't see, the soft looks he received whenever their gazes met. And not to mention being fragged in the washracks. Optimus reciprocating his affection was better than he'd ever hoped. 

  
  
  
  


The others remained skeptical and nosy as to what had happened with Chrome, but that was to be expected. They hadn't received the full truth, and they seemed to be picking up on that. But they grew less bothersome over the subject over time. 

A few weeks passed, slowly, until it eventually added up to a month. There was no sign of Chrome, he was rarely mentioned around the base, and the panic of him vanishing had dulled slightly. They had begun to suspect he fled. The possibility that he was in hiding remained, however. They didn't have time to dwell on it. There was a war to focus on. 

A signal popped up on the monitor screen, catching Ratchet's attention. "Activity," he straightened up. 

Arcee appeared at his side. "Probably just a scouting. Perhaps looking for energon deposits." She suggested. He nodded. 

"We'll call Optimus in, and-"

"It's just a scouting, Ratchet. You and me could handle it. Optimus was up early patrolling. We ought to check it out." She cut him off, gesturing to the groundbridge. 

Ratchet looked at her, surprised. "Optimus should be informed." He countered. 

Arcee was already punching in the coordinates. "Come on, Old Mech. You could use going outside."

"We need to tell Optimus." The medic repeated, voice hardening a bit. "I truly don't think going out without consulting him is a good idea." 

The bridge whirled to life, and Arcee stood at the opening, looking at him expectantly. Ratchet vented heavily. 

"Why are you doing this?"

"Just come with, Ratch."

With a great sigh, Ratchet lumbered through the bridge irritably, Arcee following in suit. They came out in a thick forest, that Arcee slipped through easily, but was an obstacle course to Ratchet. 

"So what's going on with you?" Arcee immediately asked. Her voice was quiet. They didn't want to attract the wrong kind of attention. 

"What?" 

She stepped around a large tree, glancing at him. "Your mood has dramatically shifted. You had an entire conversation that lasted five minutes with Miko yesterday, and you didn't get agitated with her once. Bulkhead knocked over and broke a piece of your equipment, and you let it go with only one lecture. You've been less angry. Still old and grouchy," he huffed at that, "But you've been. . . Dare I say happier?"

"You brought me out here to probe into my personal life." 

She laughed. "Something like that."

Ratchet turned to face her, stopping, opening his mouth to deliver a lecture, but another voice interrupted him. 

"M-Master, Autobots!" Both of them whirled around in the direction of the voice; through the thick tree trunks, Ratchet could barely see the slender form of Starscream, hunched on his knees with a blaster at his helm. He recognized the fusion cannon instantly, and there was an anxious twist in his abdomen. 

"Call for a bridge," he hissed to Arcee, before yelping in surprise as a massive form shoved in between two trees, approaching fiercely, Starscream at his heels. 

"Well, well," Megatron drawled, looking between the medic and the femme. "Enjoying the show?" 

Arcee's voice rose as she shouted over the com link: "Arcee to base, we need a bridge, now- NOW-!" She was cut off, words shifting to a shriek as Starscream fired, catching her shoulder and sending her back into the trees. Ratchet drew his blades and leapt out of the way as Megatron came down hard where he had just been, spark pounding. The warlord lunged again, this time predicting his escape and blocking it with his own long blade. The medic yelped as a clawed servo closed around his forearm and yanked him back, where he was shoved against a tree, arm held in a tight grip high above his helm, pedes barely able to touch the ground. His free blade swiped for Megatron's arm, catching the bicep and leaving a gash, before the long, sharp edge of Megatron's weapon was pushed against his middle, threatening to cut into him. Ratchet fell still, gritting his denta. 

"Keep still, medic, or I'll cut you open." Megatron snarled, pointed denta flashing. Ratchet narrowed his optics and glared, thinking hard. How was he going to escape. . . 

Arcee was back on her peds, shoulder caked in fresh energon. She fired at Starscream and charged, yelling angrily. Megatron turned his helm to see Starscream knocked back, and Ratchet seized the opportunity. He jerked his knee up and let the sharp plate around his knee cut into Megatron's abdomen, hissing as he felt the blade dig into his own middle. Megatron shouted in pain as warm energon flooded onto Ratchet's knee and thigh, and the servo on his forearm squeezed, hard, crushing Ratchet's plating. Again, Ratchet swiped at him, aiming for the face this time. He managed to strike the side of his helm and his cheek, and Megatron released him and stepped back. 

"Ratchet!" Arcee called. He turned; there was an open groundbridge. Optimus and Bulkhead were standing there, firing at Starscream. He ducked a swipe from Megatron and ran for the bridge, Optimus turning and firing at Megatron. Once he was safely beside his teammates, they drove through the bridge, and it swirled out of existence behind them.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short fluff chapter. 
> 
> Next chapter, things are going to kick up and get interesting.

“What were you _thinking_?” There was a harsh whip of anger in Optimus’ voice, one that caught his medic off guard. The pair were in the corner of the medical bay, soon after Ratchet had repaired Arcee’s shoulder and sent her on her way. Optimus had verbally reprimanded both of them, but now, being alone with Ratchet, he seemed much angrier than he had let on. “Neither of you bothered to inform anyone about your whereabouts, you blindly walked into danger, all before consulting me. As your leader, you must always inform me before making these decisions. Arcee is a strong warrior, she should have known better, but you? Ratchet, you are the most intelligent Autobot I know. Your judgement can _ never _ be clouded like that again.”

This was new. Ratchet had never had his Prime this upset with him. It was. . . Unsettling. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was silenced with a stern look.

“Walking through a bridge, and finding you trapped by Megatron? He could have _ killed _ you, Ratchet. He would have killed you, if we had failed to arrive in time. You could have caused the loss of one of the most important members of the Autobot cause. How would Team Prime fare without such a skilled medic? How could you jeopardize that?” Something different bled into his optics. There was a flash of hurt in them as he continued, “Walking through a groundbridge, and finding my partner trapped by Megatron. If I had been any later. . . I would have found you dead. If I lost you. . .” He trailed off, setting his jaw and staring into Ratchet’s optics, his anger slowly ebbing away. 

It made sense then. Ratchet finally understood his leader’s harsh reaction. He recalled the conversation they had the night Optimus confessed his feelings, and the fear Optimus had expressed. His leader feared his love being used against him, and losing his partner at his enemies hands. The day’s events could have been a nightmare come true for him. 

Ratchet’s optics softened as he held the Prime’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said gently, “I won’t do it again, Optimus.” He moved a little closer, but Optimus stood unmoving, watching him. “I’m sorry.” He repeated, reaching a servo out to take Optimus’. He lifted the larger mech’s servo to rest over his own sparkchamber. Optimus could feel the gentle thrum of Ratchet’s spark, vibrating through his digits. “I’m okay, Optimus. I’m safe now. You saved me.” The medic whispered to him, holding his servo over his spark, letting him feel his life force. 

“Ratchet. . .” Optimus murmured, stroking his thumb over his medic’s chestplating. “What if I can’t protect you next time?” His optics whirled sadly. Ratchet shook his helm.

“Do not think like that, Optimus. Do not do that to yourself.” He said firmly. “You didn’t lose me today, and you won’t tomorrow.” His voice softened. “You haven’t lost me. I’m right here.” 

The Prime knelt, arms wrapping around his medic’s waist, pulling him close. His large servos stroked Ratchet’s tense backplating, his face nuzzling into the soft grey neck cabling. “I have never felt this way for someone as strongly as I do now, Ratchet. It makes me_ very _ afraid. I do not like feeling helpless. Understand that I will fail to keep these emotions in check at times. Forgive me for doing so.” 

Ratchet smiled, stroking his helm with his uninjured arm. “I love you too.” He whispered lovingly to his Prime. “I’m sorry.”

  
  
  
  
  


That night, Ratchet settled into his leader's berth, watching Optimus organize his desk. Observing the relaxed features of the Prime's handsome face, calmly stacking datapads, sorting the contents of the drawers. . . For a moment, Ratchet could pretend that they weren't on Earth. They were on Cybertron, which was still breathing life, never touched by the war that Megatron had caused. They were in their own housing unit, a quiet, peaceful home for them to share. It was just them. There was no base, no war, no soldiers. They didn't have to fight. Optimus didn't have to worry about losing Ratchet to the Decepticons. They could be happy. 

Optimus caught his gaze, smiling. "Do you need something, Old Friend?" 

"Just enjoying the view." Ratchet chuckled softly. "But the berth is cold without you. Come join me." 

The Prime set a neat stack of datapads down, before striding over and sliding onto the berth. "I want you to move your belongings here. I want to share a room." He murmured as he snuggled up to his berthmate. "I want this to be our berth, our quarters." 

Ratchet smiled, tucking his helm into the Prime's neck. "That is the most romantic demand I have ever received. Do I have a say in the matter?" 

"We'll put your shelf along that wall. . . I think if we move the berth over, we can fit your desk. . . Right there in the corner. You'll have the right side, and I'll have the left." Optimus made gestures to different areas of the room. "How does that sound?" 

His medic pressed an affectionate kiss to his jaw. "It sounds wonderful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the peace while it lasts, I'm about to tear your hearts out~


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's do this brothers

For once, Optimus woke before Ratchet did, which happened rather seldom. He made a soft noise as he stirred from a peaceful spell, rolling onto his back in the warm berth. His medic was snuggled up in the blankets, only the upper half of his face visible from under the soft fabric, a relaxed expression gracing his features. The corners of Optimus’ mouth twitched into a small smile; he shifted his form so he could look directly at the resting mech. One of his large servos slid out from under the covers to stroke the side of Ratchet’s face, feather light, gentle. The back of his index finger traveled down his cheek gently, petting the smooth surface, feeling the warmth of sleep still in Ratchet’s metal. His medic didn’t wake, only shifted a little, leaning into the touch and making a soft, breathy sound. 

He was so _ pretty. _

Optimus didn’t want to admit just how attractive he found his berthmate, how he was so entranced in his features, how he _ watched _ the medic when he could. Ratchet’s thicker, bulkier armor, from his stocky chassis to his squared jaw, was _ so _ incredibly enthralling to Optimus. Having a bigger frame, Optimus preferred a bigger berthmate, a mech he could hold, hug, grab. . . If Ratchet was as sleek as Arcee, per say, he wouldn’t have much to hold on to. Ratchet’s frame was _ perfect _for snuggling. And all of his squared features, coming to contrast to his round, soft optics. . . 

It took Optimus’ mastery of self control to not lay a kiss to his medic’s lips that very moment. 

Instead, he pet the relaxed face once more, whispering, “Ratchet?” 

Ratchet’s brows knitted and he shifted his face, barely opening his drowsy optics. “Mmm?”

“I would like to kiss you.” The Prime spoke so softly, he doubted Ratchet would understand in his sleepy state. 

On the contrary, Ratchet pulled the blanket away from his face, exposing his mouth, and waited with a quiet sigh. Optimus leaned forward and pressed his mouth against his medic’s, in a soft, lazy kiss. Ratchet was hardly awake enough to kiss back, and has fallen back into recharge before it had ended. His Prime hummed sweetly and slipped from the berth, tucking his berthmate in as he did so. 

He loved that medic so fragging much. 

  
  
  
  
  


The children were too much to handle sometimes.

Ratchet was grumbling to himself as the TV speakers erupted with horrific noises from whatever the children were watching. Raf was hiding his face behind his hands, Jack was sitting uncomfortably, making scared faces every so often, and Miko was drinking in every detail with enthusiasm. “Turn it down,” the medic snapped, but his voice was drowned by a high pitched scream. He gave a long sigh, shaking his helm. 

And then, the volume was dramatically decreased. He looked over to see Optimus gently addressing Miko, a kind smile gracing his lips. He spoke softly, with those forgiving, welcoming optics, and whatever he said, Miko quickly listened to it. She turned the TV down, and went back to watching it happily. 

Just watching the interaction made Ratchet’s chest swell with affection. Optimus was so. . .

Good with kids.

A pang went through the medic’s spark. Orion Pax had always expressed an interest in sparklings, his sweet face lighting up at the sight of one. More than once, he mentioned wanting to have one of his own in the future, when he was older. The opportunity to do that was swept away from him with the war. Ratchet hadn’t thought about that. . . Did the desire to have a family die with Orion Pax? 

Ratchet had never really had any interest in having a sparkling. They didn’t have the same effect on him that they did Orion. But. . . The idea of holding Optimus’ sparkling in his arms, of a small sparkling running on wobbly legs to greet it’s sire at the groundbridge, of Optimus scooping up his young and speaking to them softly. It suddenly made the desire spark in Ratchet’s chest bloom like a field of daisies. Of course, now wasn’t ideal. They would never have a sparkling now. Megatron and his army made sure of that. But. . . if there was _ any _chance that the war would end in their favor, that they could live in peace. . . 

Ratchet would have his Prime’s sparkling in a heartbeat. 

The Prime strode over to him now, greeting him with a smile. “Better, Old Friend?”

The medic wanted to run to him and kiss him and hold him, but they would have an audience. Instead, he nodded, huffing. “Much better. Thank you, Optimus.”

“I would like you to drive Miko home, if you aren’t too busy. Bulkhead won’t be back for some time.” The request made Ratchet sigh. 

“Fine, fine.” He added quietly, so the children wouldn’t hear, “Only because I can’t say no to that handsome face.” 

Optimus’ engines gave an affectionate rumble. “Say that to me tonight,” he spoke even quieter than Ratchet had, his field brushing Ratchet’s, heavy with mischief and lust. Ratchet’s cheeks heated, and he debated leaving his work to pull his Prime into an energon supply closet for a few minutes. That wasn’t an option, however. He had a human to drive.

“Very well, Optimus.” He strode off in the direction of the entrance, calling to Miko. She gathered up her things and met him at the bottom of the stairs. 

Minutes later, they were leaving the base. Ratchet drove in silence, pulling out into the desert, clouds of dust kicking up behind his wheels as they traveled across the sand. Miko was typing away on her phone, slouched in the seat comfortably, legs crossed. 

“You remember where I live?” She broke the quiet as they entered Jasper, the trip being silent until then.

“You’ll have to remind me,” Ratchet hummed, “I haven’t driven in Jasper for some time.”

“You’re gonna make a right he- do you see that car behind you?” Miko paused mid direction and pointed to one of Ratchet’s rearview mirrors; he angled it to get a better look. 

A purple and black vehicle was one length behind him, windshield tinted darkly. Ratchet hissed, speeding up a little. “Vehicon.”

“You can take a stupid drone,” Miko shrugged confidently. “There’s only one. Let’s beat the scrap out of him!”

“Miko, we’re in public, I’m not going to transform and start fighting.” Ratchet muttered, turning to the left, and correcting his route to take him back to the desert. “He might not recognize me as an Autobot.”

The hopeful spell died immediately as the darker vehicle sped up to ride his tail closely, engine revving in a threatening way.

“I think he knows, Doc-Bot.” The human in his passenger seat said humorously. 

“Not funny.” Ratchet snapped.

He kept driving the same pace, driving as he normally would, anything to avoid suspicion. The vehicon was right behind him now, inches from his bumper, forcing him to speed up. He cursed, gas pedal lowering as he increased his speed, but the Decepticon stayed right there, until it began bumping Ratchet at every stop sign and every turn. Ratchet honked once or twice, hoping to convince the vehicon that he was indeed a human, and that he was getting annoyed. The vehicon only hit him harder. As Ratchet continued, he came to a stop light. It flashed yellow, and he floored it to make it across the intersection, the vehicon stuck at a red light, unable to pass the stream of cars coming from the other direction. Ratchet was relieved until he too got caught at a red light, and the vehicon came towards him at full speed. “Brace yourself,” Ratchet hissed to Miko, before the Decepticon slammed into the back of his form, the impact shoving him forward into the intersection. 

The medic had no time to react before a semi coming from the right slammed into his passenger side, sending him rolling down the road. His seatbelt tightened around Miko as she screamed, clinging to her seat as they came to a stop a few yards away. Ratchet gasped, panic surging through him. “Miko, are you alright?”

His passenger side had been damaged, his flank indented heavily from the collision. Miko’s ankle was caught between his smashed door and the passenger seat, and she had been cut from the glass, and she most likely had whiplash, but otherwise, she looked miraculously unhurt. Cybertronian vehicles were significantly stronger than normal Earth vehicles, and that had definitely saved her. 

“That hurt,” she whined. “My foot is stuck.”

“Try to get it out,” he urged. She gave a tug and cried out in pain. 

“It’s really in there. . . Open the door. . .” She pulled at the handle, but it didn’t budge.

Ratchet tried to open his passenger door, but it was caught where it was, it’s functionality destroyed from the damage. “It’s too bent, I can’t get it.” He cursed. It was amazing that a cybertronian had so much strength, and it wasn’t transferred well to vehicular mode. A ‘bot could move faster and with more agility than an Earth vehicle, but the muscle their bipedal forms had weren’t much use when they were in vehicular mode. He panicked when he saw the vehicon speeding towards him.

He slammed the gas and tore away from the intersection. 

“You have to get your foot out,” he said firmly. 

“I-I can’t,” Miko was pulling with all her might, the metal beginning to cut into her ankle. 

“_ FRAG!” _Ratchet cursed loudly when four other vehicons suddenly appeared behind him. He activated his comm link, speeding towards the edge of Jasper. “Ratchet to base, I need backup! Optimus, there are Decepticons are in Jasper, and Miko is hurt!” He turned sharply to avoid one ‘con as it tried to ram him. 

They zoomed out into the desert, the vehicons right at his tail, some speeding to flank him. They were trying to encircle him. 

“Hang on!” Ratchet slammed on his brakes, letting the vehicon behind him bash him. The ‘cons flanking him skidded forward, his stop unexpected, and he tore through a gap and sped on. Miko had begun crying, and Ratchet winced at the noise. He could feel blood running down his seats and the floor where her ankle was caught. She would need immediate medical attention, they had been in a gnarly collision, and there was more to come.

_ “Ratchet, we’re coming!” _His leader’s voice called over his comm. 

One of the vehicons transformed and began firing at him. One of his tires popped as an energon blast struck, and he skidded painfully, making an unexpected, sharp turn to the left. 

He couldn’t move as fast as he needed to. The vehicles managed to encircle him, before stopping in unison. He slammed on his brakes again, to avoid rear ending the vehicon in front of him. He didn’t want the airbag to hurt Miko further.

“I have to transform.” He said, panicking as the Decepticons transformed in the circle. He didn’t know what would happen when he transformed, his armor was dented and misshapen. He didn’t know what would happen to Miko. 

He had to do something. 

He transformed with a yelp of pain, but his voice was drowned out by Miko’s scream. There was a sickening _ crunchPOP! _as her ankle snapped where it had been trapped. Some of his damaged plating cut her as it whipped around her, and she landed in Ratchet’s servo otherwise unharmed. 

The medic gritted his denta at her sobs of pain, her ankle badly broken. He had no time to worry about it however, as the vehicons pounced. One of his blades slid out and he swiped, spinning to keep back all of his opponents.

A groundbridge surged to life, and Optimus, Bumblebee and Arcee poured out, immediately charging. Relief flooded through Ratchet, but the distraction gave one vehicon the chance to land a square kick in Ratchet’s chest. He stumbled back, holding Miko close to him as she shrieked from the motion. He heard the activation of a second groundbridge just behind him, green light reflecting off his armor. A familiar shadow fell over him, and he only had a second to act. His gaze met Bumblebee’s, and he nodded to the scout, before tossing Miko into the air. Bumblebee seemed to understand, diving forward and catching her as a servo grabbed Ratchet’s shoulder and wrenched him back. He heard Miko scream as Bumblebee caught her, landing on metal causing two of her ribs to crack. 

Bumblebee transformed with her safely in his seat and tore away from the battle, speeding her to safety.

Relief flooded through Ratchet. She was safe.

He spun around to face Breakdown, who had a painful hold on him. The blue mech seemed to be listening to something, and Ratchet quickly realized he was receiving orders from over his com link. The medic jerked at the tight grasp, hissing in pain. “Stop that,” Breakdown thundered, before heaving Ratchet through the bridge he had just come through.

Ratchet landed on the hard floor of the Nemesis, gasping at the impact. Two vehicons leapt into action, one slamming a pede onto his chest, pointing a firearm right between his optics, while the other put one pede on his rectracted servo, keeping his blade immobilized. He stared up into the barrel of the blaster, gritting his denta. 

Loud, heavy pedesteps echoed through the hall. He glanced up, and barely caught Megatron’s gaze, as the warlord stepped through the groundbridge, and into the battle. 

“Lord Megatron wants him in the brig,” one vehicon said.

“Step aside!” The high pitched squeal of a familiar seeker rang out before anyone could do anything. “Captives are my department.” Starscream approached, looking down at Ratchet with frown. “What could Megatron possibly want with this useless scrap of metal?”

Ratchet narrowed his optics. “I wonder the same about you.” 

The seeker huffed, kicking him in the side with one of his sharp pedes. The medic yelped and hissed. “Take him to the brig.”

Ratchet gritted his denta as he was hauled up and roughly marched through the halls of the Nemesis.

Well, at least Miko was safe. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to watch the world burn


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have fun my lovelies

"Thank you, for gracing us with your presence, Doctor." The thundering drawl of the Decepticon warlord filled the quiet cell, the doors parting to reveal his jagged frame. He slowly strode in, dark optics immediately catching Ratchet's. "It is such an honor to have you on my warship. Have you been treated kindly?"

Ratchet tensed, pressing to the wall and standing up, as Megatron's tall shadow fell over him. "Why am I here?" He hissed through gritted denta.

"I'm sure you are uncomfortable in this dark, cold cell. Perhaps, we can work out a more comforting arrangement." The larger mech gestured to their surroundings, ignoring his question. "That is, if you comply. Which I'm certain you will, especially under your circumstances." He flashed the medic a malicious smile. "You aren't afraid, are you?" Ratchet didn't move from his spot, keeping as much distance between them as possible. "Come closer, Medic. You need not fear me. . . I do not wish to harm you. That only comes with defiance."

Ratchet narrowed his optics and took a few tense steps forward, staring into the warlord's dangerous optics. "I do not fear you, Megatron. Tell me why I am here or leave. I will not play your games."

"Very well, Doctor." Megatron took steps of his own and lessened the distance between them. "You are going to join the Decepticon cause." He said slowly, his voice lowering. One of his claws lifted to tap on Ratchet's Autobot insignia.

The smaller mech jerked away at the touch, scoffing. "Don't mock me." He glared up at him, but after a moment, his doubt faltered. "You. . . You can't be _serious_." A small laugh escaped him. "What makes you think I would switch sides? Did you think you'd ask me and I'd happily do it? What possibly convinced you that I'd betray my cause?"

Megatron calmly looked down upon him. "You joined the Autobot cause to support Optimus Prime, did you not?" Ratchet set his jaw at the mention of his berthmate. "You have fought by his side as his closest friend, and most trusted ally. He was the reason you leapt into the war so eagerly. I daresay he is the reason you are such a devoted Autobot."

"How is that relevant?" Ratchet spat.

"Take Optimus away," that made Ratchet's spark stop, "And what's left standing? Will your devotion to the Autobots remain?"

"My stance as an Autobot involves more than my loyalty to Optimus," the medic crossed his arms, chewing the inside of his cheek furiously. "My desire to see the end of your reign also plays a part in it." He snapped as the warlord smirked slowly.

"Optimus being removed from the picture would take a toll on you nonetheless, wouldn't it, Medic?"

"That wouldn't change where my loyalties lie!" Ratchet's voice raised a little. "Why is this so important to you?"

Megatron growled. "If you lost one master, you would move on to the next, would you not?"

None of this was making sense to Ratchet. He didn't answer, only stared at the gladiator, his confusion present on his face. The warlord raised one servo and snapped, loudly. The doors opened, and in stepped Soundwave. He. . . Had something in his servo, something coated in bright blue.

Ratchet's tanks churned as Megatron took it into his own talons, before holding it before him.

Panic surged through him.

He bit his lower lip so hard it bled.

His spark felt as if it had cracked in two.

"N-. . . No. . . _No_. No no no. . ." He whimpered, his legs beginning to shake, his knees threatening to buckle.

"_Yes_, Medic." Megatron hissed, a satisfied gleam in his optics. Energon dripped from his servo onto the floor between them.

In his clawed servo sat the matrix of leadership, torn a bit, and coated in fresh energon.

Ratchet collapsed to the floor, his legs giving out. He was trembling, so much that he could hear his armor chattering. "N. . . Ngh. . . No. . . _Please_, no. . ." He would never be caught on his servos and knees before the Decepticon leader, but suddenly, none of that mattered to him. . .

Megatron threw the broken matrix to the ground in front of him, sending speckles of energon over his face and servos. "I killed your leader, Autobot. I ripped his spark apart while he watched. I tore the matrix from his chest while he screamed. I killed Optimus."

A broken sob escaped Ratchet. He covered his mouth to stifle the wail threatening to leave his lips. The cries and tears and mantra of "no" didn't stop, echoed through the cell, as Ratchet felt his spark break. Megatron slammed his pede onto the matrix, shattering it and crumbling it to golden dust beneath his weight. And then he left, Soundwave close behind him.

Ratchet was left, curled up on the floor, sobbing, broken, trembling.

Outside the cell, Megatron strode down the hall, his silent ally at his side. "Soundwave, wonderful job on the decoy. You captured every detail. Excellent work."


	20. Chapter 20

Megatron waited two days to address his captive again. When the medic was offered energon, he had refused it, even with Knockout’s coaxing and Starscream’s screeching. This was  _ annoying.  _ Megatron needed him nourished and strong for what he had planned. He wasn’t going to let Optimus Prime’s  _ pet  _ set him off course.

He entered the cell with an energon cube in servo, silent. 

It was so  _ amusing  _ to find Ratchet in the corner, curled up, exhausted from his weeping. The warlord had been watching him through the cameras throughout the cell, and had thoroughly enjoyed the medic’s grieving. He knew that Optimus’ death would hurt Ratchet, but the wailing and the sobbing. . . This was more than he could have ever hoped for.

Megatron strode over to him, but he wasn’t acknowledged. The warlord crouched, reaching and taking Ratchet’s shoulder, pulling him upright.

“ _ Don’t fragging touch me _ ,” the medic’s voice was shaky and hoarse, as he pulled away from the rough grip.

“You refused fuel, Doctor,” Megatron said sweetly. “You won’t refuse it when I offer it, now will you?” 

Ratchet didn’t meet his gaze, only turned his helm away and ignored him. Megatron huffed, roughly grabbing his chin, forcing his face back towards him. “Get off!” The medic protested, tensing as Megatron slipped his index finger up to his lips. Ratchet whimpered as two digits entered his mouth keeping his lips parted so the edge of the energon cube could be pushed in between them. Energon hit his glossa, and he whined as Megatron poured it into his mouth. 

“Do not fight me, Ratchet.” The warlord growled. 

This was demeaning. Ratchet bit back his fury and let Megatron force feed him, tearing away the moment the cube was empty. “Great, now  _ leave _ .” He snapped, scooting away from the gladiator.

“No.” The reply was simple. Megatron gently pulled his gaze back with two claws. He smirked as he noticed the streaks down the medic’s cheeks- his tears had stained the metal, lightly, just noticeable. “Do you remember what I told you?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you. Leave me alone.” 

“You are going to join my cause, Doctor.” The gladiator spoke softly. “Optimus is dead. There is no reason for you to return.” 

Ratchet flinched, optics growing watery. “That’s not how it works, Megatron. Just go.” He whispered, keeping his voice quiet to hide the waver. 

“Come now, Ratchet. Come work for me. You will be respected and appreciated, you will get whatever you desire. . . It’s time to switch sides.” 

“Stop. . .” Ratchet whined. “Please, just leave. . . I won’t join the Decepticons, so  _ let me be. . . _ ” 

Megatron hissed, rising to his pedes, dragging his captive up by his wrist. “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer.” His blade slid out from under his cannon. The medic didn’t flinch, only glanced with little interest. The tip of the sword was pressed to his cheek. 

“Just kill me.” Ratchet said, almost pleadingly. 

The blade flicked down, slicing the surface of his faceplate. Ratchet hardly reacted. 

“You aren’t in any position to make any requests.” The gladiator tsked. He flicked his blade across Ratchet’s chestplating. Energon dripped down the orange and white plating, yet Ratchet only flinched. “Tougher than I remember.” Megatron thought aloud.

“You  _ can’t _ hurt me more than you already have,” the medic yanked his servo from the warlord’s grasp. “You’ve taken everything you can from me, there’s nothing you can do to me now, so just  _ kill  _ me or  _ leave _ !” His voice steadily rose to a shout, tears finally gliding down his cheeks. 

Megatron struck him, open handed. Ratchet gasped, one hand holding the side of his face where he had been hit. “Optimus would be disappointed.” He hissed. “His medic is  _ weak  _ in his absence.” 

That drew a sob from Ratchet. He turned away, covering his mouth to stifle the noise. “Stop fragging mentioning him,” He whimpered. “Stop all of this! I’m not going to comply, so just fragging  _ stop _ ! I just want to be alone! If you aren’t going to terminate me, then get out!” 

“Do you  _ really  _ wish for death?” The Decepticon towered over him, snarling. “Do you want me to rip your spark out, just like his? Will that make you happy?”

He received no answer. 

“Come on.” He forcefully grabbed the medic and dragged him towards the door. 

The medic resisted every step of the way until they reached the medical center of the warship. 

“You are going to assist here.” Megatron ordered, gesturing around. 

“No.” Ratchet retorted. 

He watched as the warlord grabbed a random vehicon that was carrying a few datapads. Surprise pooled into his wet optics as Megatron sliced the drone’s chestplating harshly, tearing a piece of armor off. The vehicon shouted in pain, gasping as he was thrown onto a medical berth.

“It is time to prove your usefulness.  _ Repair him _ .” The crazed tyrant rounded on Ratchet, snarling.

“ _ No.” _ The medic challenged, staring into his fiery red optics fiercely.

He was taken by the wrist and slammed into a table, sending it toppling over, several tools clattering to the ground. He grunted, shakily rising to his pedes, only to be grabbed again and thrown roughly across the room, Knockout squeaking and diving out of the way. Ratchet hit the wall, gasping. His backstrut hurt now, and Megatron kept coming. A servo clasped around his throat, and he was thrown down against the floor. 

“I’m going to beat you to death if you don’t obey me  _ now _ ,” Megatron gritted his sharp denta in anger.

“Then get on with it,” Ratchet rasped. 

“You’re  _ pathetic. _ ” 

The warlord released him and kicked him in the side, hard. Ratchet yelped, curling in on himself. “I want him, and that vehicon, back in the cell.” Megatron commanded to nearby soldiers. 

Ratchet didn’t resist as he was dragged off. _Why couldn't Megatron just terminate him instead of playing these games?_


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a heavy chapter. 
> 
> Trigger warning, grieving, torture, etc.
> 
> There will be a brief summary at the end in case you don't want to read the details.

“ _ Please. . . _ Please help me. . .”

Ratchet ignored the wounded vehicon’s desperate pleas, and the sound of metal slipping against energon. The drone was struggling to stay upright, scrabbling in a puddle of his own blood. 

Megatron wanted him to treat the soldier.

Spite pooled in Ratchet’s field, and he turned his back to the Decepticon bitterly. He had been relieved to be returned to his cell, so he could crawl into his corner and resume his mourning, but the dying vehicon was proving it so difficult to find comfort. 

The medic let out a shaky sigh, curling up and letting his back fall against the wall. Hot tears found their way down his cheeks.

Why couldn’t he stop  _ crying _ ?

He hated showing such weakness, but he couldn’t seem to contain himself. It  _ hurt.  _

Optimus was gone. The mech he loved was gone. And he was still here.

After decades of longing and pining, Optimus finally returned his love, and then it was over, just like that. He lost Optimus  _ just like that.  _ It was ironic, really, how much Optimus had feared losing Ratchet to Megatron, but in the end, it was the other way around.

The tears kept coming. He silently wept, his throat tight and his frame trembling. 

When Megatron had threatened him, he all but begged for death. 

Why did he do that?

Guilt swelled in his chest. Was he really that weak? He proved that he would not break to Megatron’s will, but he was already so broken. . . 

Did he really want to join the Allspark? 

Was he that desperate for Megatron to kill him?

Was he that selfish?

“I’m begging you, please, help. . .”

What would happen if he remained alive? Megatron would move to torturing him, and would continue making Hell of his life until he got what he wanted. It wouldn’t be long before the cortical psychic patch would be used, and then what? The Autobot base would be discovered, and all of his comrades would be slaughtered, just like Optimus?   
  


Perhaps it wasn’t as selfish. If it meant the safety of his friends. . .

Primus, he just wanted to be held by his leader again. . .

He covered his mouth to stifle a sob. He longed to hear the soft hum of Optimus’ engine, those gentle servos stroking his face, those soft lips pressed to his cheek. 

He missed Optimus  _ so fragging much.  _

Ratchet wondered what happened after death. What if Optimus’ was waiting for him in the Well of Allsparks? What if he could be reunited again?

“ _ Ughnnkh. . .”  _ The vehicon collapsed on the floor.

Ratchet looked at him, wiping his tears away. He had an idea. 

The medic approached quietly, kneeling before him. “I’ll make you a deal.” He began hesitantly.

A faint red visor looked up at him. “Anything. . . I don’t want to die. . .”

A pang went through Ratchet’s spark. “I’ll repair you if. . .” He had to find his voice. “If you kill me.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Megatron watched the screen intently, watching Ratchet ignore the vehicon initially, before finally breaking and moving to help him. A grin crossed his scarred lips.  _ Good.  _

Admittedly, he had let his anger control him when he wounded the vehicon. He was angry, and frustrated, and had to take it out on  _ something.  _ The poor vehicon had just been in arms length. 

It was satisfying to watch Ratchet weld the vehicon’s wounds shut, and stop the bleeding. Of course, the soldier would need energon quickly, but the gaping wound had been sealed. Ratchet had obeyed the order. 

Megatron’s gut twisted in panic when Ratchet lowered to his knees in front of the vehicon, and his Decepticon knowingly activated his blaster, pointing it directly between the medic’s optics. . .

“ _ SOUNDWAVE _ !” Megatron roared, leaping to his pedes, throwing the datapad aside. “ _ GET TO THE BRIG!”  _ He activated his comm link, snarling into it fiercely, “Guards, enter the cell,  _ stop them _ !” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“A-Are you sure?”

“Just fragging do it already,” Ratchet hissed through gritted denta, fresh tears running rivers down his face. 

The cell door flew open, and guards dove in. Ratchet gasped, and the vehicon jumped in surprise. One guard roughly shoved Ratchet over, while the other dragged the wounded vehicon to the other side of the room.

“Scrap!” The medic cursed, kicking at the guard. “Get the frag away from me. . .”

Soundwave entered the cell then, looking around in his calculating silence. He gestured to the guards, who immediately slipped back to the door. 

The wounded vehicon sat against the wall, obviously panicking. It was difficult to read his emotions, his face simply being a thin red visor, but his body language conveyed pure fear. He shook, gripping himself with fierce anxiety. 

Ratchet stared at Soundwave, expecting him to do something, but he only waited.

And then, Megatron entered.

The warlord strode right up to the vehicon, his steps heavy, his servos curled into cruel fists. 

“M-My lord- AUGH!” The vehicon was taken by a deathly grip on his throat, and lifted from the ground. 

Ratchet looked away with a pang of guilt as the warlord forced his claws into the drone’s chestplating, tearing the armor open, and letting his talons fall around the pounding spark. A scream echoed through the brig as the spark was torn from it’s chamber, with the cruel sound of tearing wires and snapping circuits. 

The lifeless husk was tossed aside, and the severed spark thrown to the ground before Ratchet.

“How  _ dare  _ you,” Megatron  _ snarled  _ at him, optics blazing in fury.

“How dare I?” Ratchet choked out, his tears falling from his face to his armor with gentle  _ drips.  _ “You took  _ everything  _ from me! You tore my spark out with  _ his _ ! When you killed him, you killed  _ me _ ! How dare I try to finish the job because  _ you won’t _ !” He rose to his pedes, voice raising to a shout. 

“Don’t be so  _ dramatic, _ ” The warlord sneered. “Optimus would be so, so  _ ashamed  _ of the creature his medic turned into. You’re  _ weak  _ and  _ pathetic.  _ If he saw you like this, he would-”

Ratchet struck him.

It was exactly how Megatron had hit him. Open handed, across the face, but Megatron had been careful not to hurt him. Ratchet didn’t give a flying  _ frag  _ if Megatron got hurt. He struck Megatron with all he had.

The warlord had been caught off guard. He stumbled, face stinging, jaw aching. 

Impressive. 

Megatron smiled at the taste of energon on his glossa. He  _ liked  _ this medic. 

That didn’t stop him from slamming Ratchet against the wall, talons closing around his throat dangerously. “You amuse me, Doctor.” He purred, leaning close to the medic, so he could whisper into his audio receptor: “I am going to  _ break _ you, make you  _ scream,  _ make you bend to my will. You cannot stop me.”

“Go on then.” Ratchet hissed right back. “I’d like to see you try.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It was hard to keep track of time. Every minute felt like an hour. 

Ratchet’s voice had been reduced to weak static from his screaming. He couldn’t stop. 

In the  _ Nemesis,  _ there were dozens of corridors and hallways and paths. It was ironically similar to an anthill. There were chambers in the ship where several corridors met, these rooms were generally important. Monitors, supplies, and weapons were often seen in each of these chambers.

Just before the brig, there was one chamber. This chamber had paths to the interrogation rooms, the cells, the torture chambers, everything that made the Decepticon warship so scary.

Ratchet had been chained against the wall, servos above his helm, his ankles shackled down. Thin needles pierced his plating along his arms, sides, legs, and neck. These needles were a part of a device Megatron had been patiently waiting to test.

Each needle punctured a nerve or a pain receptor. They heightened the sensitivity of his receptors, sending signals through his frame, commanding each of his receptors to experience agony. The pain was blinding. His system of nerves was dragged to it’s limit, creating pain that he never knew could exist.

He screamed, and cried, and struggled, but he found that his every move would only intensify his agony. 

It came in waves, increasing and decreasing, in a soft rocking motion. The needles glowed a deep yellow, pulsing, sending vicious signals that tore Ratchet’s systems to bits. The device would shut down for fifteen minutes every hour, before activating again, sending him back into his Hell. 

He sat on display, hanging there, living in agony, as a warning. Megatron had made that clear.

This was a warning to every vehicon, every guard, every prisoner, that Megatron would not allow disobedience. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet continues grieving, and makes a deal with the injured vehicon from the last chapter. Megatron doesn't like this. He terminates the vehicon and Ratchet is tortured for his disobedience.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're getting some hope up in here :')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short chapter, but a whole lot is coming

Twenty-four hours had passed. A full day cycle. 

It was like an eternity to Ratchet. 

He thought he was going to offline from the searing pain coursing through his frame. He was certain that it would kill him. 

He wasn’t that lucky.

The device shut down with a tired whirr, the glowing needles paling before flicking off and withdrawing from his frame. If he wasn’t still in horrific pain, he may have been relieved. 

“Shall we stop fighting now?” Ratchet had hardly registered Megatron’s arrival, his vision was spinning. “Can we cease our squabbling and work together now?”

In his bleary state, he managed to find agitation in how the warlord was addressing him, like it was  _ his  _ fault. If he had been strong enough, he would have gladly informed Megatron of his feelings. But he was exhausted, and in pain, and so, so  _ fed up.  _

“Come, Medic.” The chains abruptly released, and Ratchet slid to his servos and knees with a gasp, a blinding white crossing his vision from the pain. “Stop fighting.” 

Ratchet tried to send him off with something snappy, but his voicebox would not produce anything. He let Megatron pull him to his pedes, and off they went.

Knockout gave him something for the pain, and put him to work. Breakdown had been injured, probably from a scuffle with Bulkhead, Ratchet noted proudly, and he was expected to treat him. He didn’t want to be of use. He didn’t want to serve Megatron.

He was so  _ tired,  _ though. . . If patching up one Decepticon meant a moment of peace without torture, well then  _ fine.  _ He tended to the blue mech silently, ignoring the ache in his frame, ignoring Megatron’s approving gaze. 

Once he had finished with Breakdown, Knockout gestured to other wounded vehicons, and he bitterly agreed and set off. 

“Finally we have a  _ skilled  _ medic onboard,” he heard one vehicon mumble to his partner. 

“I heard that.” Knockout snapped. 

“ _ I heard that,” _ the drone mimicked snarkily.

Now, Ratchet hated each Decepticon on the warship. But listening to the banter and the sassy remarks were. . . Comforting. It pleasantly reminded him of his comrades, and the way that they teased one another, and playfully threatened each other. Ratchet missed them. As horrifying as it was to live with them, they meant the world to him. He huffed to himself, bitter that he even found reasons to miss Bulkhead and his charge.

The medbay was the only place on the warship that Ratchet found comforting in any way. Starscream squirming and whining reminded him of Bulkhead. Breakdown trying to act tough but flinching at the sight of a needle pointed in his direction reminded him of Bumblebee. He missed these small pieces of his team that seemed annoying, initially, but became something that could make him smile. 

He may not ever be able to see his comrades again.

He would not ever be able to see his Prime again.

But at least he was able to find the slightest comfort in this. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Ratchet despised that he gave in to Megatron’s demands. While he refused any scientific work, he had agreed to assist Knockout in the medbay, if it meant that we wouldn’t be tortured. It gave Megatron a reason to refrain from using things like the cortical psychic patch on him. 

Things went on like this until a week had passed. He would be retrieved from his cell, given fuel, and sent off to work until the night. It wasn’t horrible. It distracted him from grieving. 

One morning, it was Megatron that came to collect him. This was odd, it was always the vehicons, as their master had better things to attend to. Ratchet knew something different would happen quite fast.

“Doctor,” The warlord greeted, entering the cell. 

Ratchet didn’t move from his corner. “What do you want?” He asked bitterly. Even if he was assisting in the medbay, it didn’t mean he had to be  _ nice  _ to his captor. 

“Your expertise. An energon mine collapsed last night, and many of my soldiers were wounded, including Knockout. He is currently trapped, my miners are working on freeing him. You will work in his place.”

“So why are  _ you  _ here?” It didn’t make sense that Megatron was there, when anyone could have brought Ratchet to the medbay.

“Because you will be joining me at the mine.” Red optics narrowed, drinking in the medic’s reaction. Ratchet stared at him in surprise. 

Megatron was going to take him down to Earth’s surface. He was going to be  _ outside.  _ This increased the likelihood of him being rescued or found, and if he had even one moment where Megatron’s guard was down, he could escape. 

“Why?” He asked.

“I believe you can assist in getting my trapped Decepticons free from the caves. You’re a smart little Autobot. Now, come. I don’t have all day.” 

Ratchet rose to his pedes, silently following Megatron out of the cell, down the corridor, and out of the brig.

He could escape.

He could be rescued.

He could get out of this  _ Hell.  _

  
Ratchet watched as a groundbridge whirled to life, spark pounding. _Here we go. _


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but we get to see someone who we haven't seen in a while~

Ratchet still didn’t understand why he was being taken to Earth’s surface. It seemed strange that Megatron would take such a risk, bringing his prisoner out into the open. Perhaps it was a trick. He buried the hopes of rescue or escape deep, desperate to keep them from rising too high. While his chances of leaving Decepticon grasp had increased, it still didn’t mean that it was a probable outcome. 

Paranoia had made Megatron extremely bitter. He carried with him an energon prod and a small hand-whip that was often used to punish lazy miners. It was clear that he didn’t intend on letting his prey escape. Soundwave approached with a long chain, placing it in his master’s servo, and Ratchet’s tanks twisted in disappointment.

“Come here.” The warlord ordered. Ratchet took a few steps forward, but when the chain was wrapped once around his neck, he tore away with a noise of protest. 

“I’m not going to wear a fragging leash, Megatr-!” His whine was silenced by the whip striking across his face, catching his cheek. Not enough to cause any damage, but enough to sting like mad, and leave a harsh mark. 

“I have been lenient with you,” Megatron’s voice was tight, pushed through gritted denta. “I have allowed your  _ sass  _ for long enough. I will no longer be disrespected by a lapdog who doesn’t know his place. It ends now. You will be perfectly obedient, or you will be punished, and I promise you, it will  _ hurt. _ ” 

He did not like the idea of losing his prisoner. Ratchet recognized his caution and hesitance immediately, and saw how fearsome it made him. 

This time, the chain was twisted around his neck rather harshly, looping around twice before being locked into place. It was tight, almost unbearably so. Ratchet made choked noises and pulled at it, the ridges of the chain pushing into the delicate neck cabling painfully. 

“You will stay right at my side. You will follow every order. You will not speak unless spoken to.” Megatron kept listing off his demands, but Ratchet hardly listened, his optics were trained on the groundbridge. 

The leash was pulled, and Ratchet bitterly let himself be led through the bridge. 

The sun was blinding. It had been so long since he had been outside the dark corridors of the warship, his optics had adjusted to the eternal night he had been kept in. He covered his optics, letting them adjust before scanning his surroundings. They were at the edge of a forest, beside a tall cliff, in which was the mouth of a cave. 

The scent of thick dust and energon hit Ratchet was he was roughly yanked towards the cave. The entrance had caved a few meters in, and he watched as miners delicately worked to uncover it, working with intense precision as to keep the rest of the caverns from collapsing. It was a gruesome sight. Limbs stuck out from beneath boulders, servos reaching out to the outside in one last desperate plea before being crushed. Legs and complete lower halves stuck out, motionless, slick with energon. Ratchet sucked in a dreadful breath at the sight of one vehicon whose lower half was trapped beneath a boulder. He was  _ screaming.  _ He was begging for his comrades to help get him out, to terminate him, to do something, but they only followed their master’s orders in working on the caves.  _ You can not die until Megatron is done with you.  _ Ratchet mused to himself sadly. 

Many vehicons were injured, but when the medic saw Starscream, he grew a better understanding on why Megatron risked his presence. The seeker’s wings were badly crushed, one of his arms torn horrifically, energon running a sickening river around him. Many decepticons were injured like this, in a way that made transport difficult. They were likely to lose too much energon on the way to the medbay, and Megatron would not provide replacement energon if he could avoid it. 

Starscream was the most important mech that was injured, so fixing him came first. The seeker shrieked in pain and screeched at every poke and prod, but his recovery was guaranteed by Ratchet’s expertise. He would be able to fly and use his arm, much to his pleasure, and he was taken away once Ratchet had stopped his bleeding. 

He lost track of how many vehicons he had to treat. Seven died while Ratchet was there. Megatron would glare at him briefly and drag him to the next patient, agitated with the growing losses. 

Hours passed. All of Ratchet’s patients had been successfully treated and transported to the medbay, and now, Ratchet stood irritably by Megatron’s side while the warlord instructed the miners. Knockout and the others had yet to be freed, though progress had been made. 

The chain collar had Ratchet’s neck aching, and now, it was all he could think about. He pulled at it and tried to shift it around, but Megatron struck him with the prod once and he got the message. 

It had been a long day. 

Megatron was shouting at the miners furiously, frustrated with the slow process. His voice thundered through the woods, so much that Ratchet had nearly missed the sound of approaching pedesteps. He turned at the soft noise, watching the line of trees. 

His spark clenched at the sight of a large frame slipping into view. Megatron turned, following his gaze, before freezing. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The exact day Ratchet had been captured weeks before, something else of interest had taken place. 

_ “Who here is willing to make the ultimate sacrifice?” _

The question lingered among the soldiers, each one shifting uncomfortably. Their leader stood before them, surveying his ranks, impatience hardening his features. 

“This could be a colossal breakthrough for each and every one of us, and nobody has the courage?” The man hissed. “Not one of my men will risk their lives for their cause?”

Tense silence thickened the air. 

“I will.” 

Every soldier turned to glimpse the man who had spoken. He pushed through the crowd to stand before his leader. 

Scarred lips pulled tight into a joyless smile. “Good.” 

The volunteer pushed his anxiety down as his leader addressed the scientists and doctors in the room.

“Prepare for the operation.” Everyone scrambled to work, machinery waking with loud hums. “You are a very lucky man,” the leader placed an arm around the soldier and led him to a large, metal dissection table, where a lifeless cybertronian form rested, distracting him from the sudden commotion. “If this goes according you plan, you will be the first alien-human hybrid.”

“Thank you, Sir,” the soldier forced out. He couldn’t seem to find his voice. 

“M.E.C.H. takes a great step forward today, because of you.” Silas spoke loudly to cover the clicking of a gun just behind them. 

“Thank y-” A tranquilizer dart sank into the back of the soldier’s neck. 

No one batted an eye as he collapsed on the floor. 


	24. Chapter 24

_ “R-Ratchgh. . . Ratchgeht. . .” _

Ratchet swallowed, biting back the sudden urge to purge his tanks. Despite how he _ loathed _Megatron, he found himself inching closer to the tall gladiator in a pathetic display of pure terror. 

Megatron rotated his body fully to face the monstrosity before them; his spark clenched in disgust, hardly aware of Ratchet pressing closer to him in fright. Normally, he’d take the time to mock the medic, but he found himself frightened stiff. 

The _ thing _before them was horrifying.

Ratchet recognized the green plating, the gentle Autobot features, but it was so mangled and so different. . . 

The mech standing before them was Ironchrome.

There was no doubt about that.

But. . . His plating was jagged, and torn, his entire frame taken apart and reassembled cruelly, horrific welds crossing his armor. The way he moved was rough and choppy, jerking, and then still, and then jerking again. His optics were lifeless, grey, faded, tears and energon streaming from them in sad rivers. He opened his mouth, and energon bubbled up from behind his glossa, spurting out. His energon was dark and discolored. 

_ “Ratchghet. . .” _ His servo jerked forward suddenly with a sickening _ crack, _digits trembling as they reached out for the medic. 

Ratchet covered his mouth, stifling the gasp of horror. He took a couple shaky steps back, whimpering fearfully.

“What is that?” Megatron grabbed him by the tight chain around his neck and held him close, field whipping suspiciously. Ratchet quickly concluded that the warlord suspected that this was a rouse, a distraction, an attempt at escaping. As if Ratchet could have pulled anything like this off.

“I-I don’t know, I don’t-”

“Do not lie to me! It knows your name!” The warlord barked.

“H-Help. . .” A different voice came from Chrome, his lips moving, jaw shaking and popping with every word. “P-Please, help. . .”

“What. . ?” Megatron barely managed a whisper.

Chrome’s voice returned, joining the new voice in a synchronized shriek of pain, as Chrome’s ravaged chest plates snapped back sharply. Ratchet let loose a scream of shock, and fear, jerking against Megatron’s hold. Inside Chrome’s chest, was a human. The poor man was just as ravaged as the Autobot he lied within, metal piercing his head, jaw, shoulders, chest; scars from the procedure dappled his face, and dried blood matted his hair. Fresh tears ran down his bruised cheeks as he spoke, “Please, help. . .”

An electric shock pulsed through both of them, and they cried out in unison, Chrome’s chestplating sliding shut with a screech. 

“_ What are you?!” _Megatron thundered dangerously, clenching his servos into fists in terror. He held Ratchet’s neck so tightly that Ratchet choked for breath, grabbing at the warlord’s wrist desperately. 

There was a click and a whirr, and a third voice spoke through a speaker in Chrome’s throat. “This is a breakthrough in our science. This is the first human-cybertronian hybrid. This is the test run of what will be the greatest military advantage this world has seen.” Ratchet recognized Silas’ voice.

“M-M.E.C.H. . .” Ratchet rasped, trying to pry Megatron’s sharp digits from him, but the gladiator seemed to be paralyzed. “M-Megatron. . .”

_ “Ratchgeht. . .” _ Chrome’s voice returned, a horrific sob wracking his frame. He gasped in pain, energon streaming from his mouth and eyes. . . _ “P-Please. . .” _

Ratchet kicked Megatron’s side hard, and Megatron finally seemed to gain control of his servos. He released Ratchet’s collar, his fusion cannon activating with a hum. “Kill it!” Ratchet hissed, staring into Chrome’s dead optics fearfully.

Before Megatron could fire, another form slipped between the trees and into the clearing, blasters drawn and glowing blue.

Ratchet’s spark all but stopped.

“Megatron,” Optimus started powerfully, before his optics found the horrific Autobot a few yards away from him. He made a noise of surprise, turning his body so he could keep both Chrome and Megatron in view. 

“Optimus?” Ratchet whispered pitifully.

Their optics met, and Ratchet made to walk towards him, but Megatron jerked him back. A flood of emotions hit Ratchet all at once, relief, shock, panic. . .

“You fragging tricked me,” he turned to face the warlord. “You told me he was dead.”

Megatron, despite the fright he had experienced, found it in him to grin wickedly at the medic. “I lied."

“Megatron, release my medic,” Optimus forced a steady voice, gaze flicking between all the surrounding mechs. 

_ “Optimugh. . .” _ Chrome sputtered out, turning mechanically, reaching out desperately. _ “H-Help. . .” _

The Prime looked at him, setting his jaw and keeping a blank expression. “Chrome-”

He was cut off by the thundering of Megatorn’s fusion cannon, firing with a flash of light, piercing Chrome’s chest and searing it, a duet of screams escaping the green mech. Ironchrome, or the thing that he had become, crumpled, in a pile of ravaged plating and energon. 

“Now that _ that’s _ over with,” the gladiator drawled, before taking Ratchet by the neck once more and hurling him to the ground. The medic landed with a _ thud, _gasping. The fusion cannon pressed to the back of his helm, hot, warmed up and ready for the kill. 

“No,” Optimus stepped forward, hesitating as a dozen blasters pointed at him, the vehicons taking action behind their leader. “Megatron, let him go.” 

“It was working _ so well. _ I had him _ broken. _ I had him obeying my every command. And you arrive and _ ruin _ my work.” The warlord ignored him, spatting dangerously. “I wish you could have seen him, Prime. Weak, sobbing, desperate for death to take him. . . Your dear medic was reduced to _ nothing. _” 

That was embarrassingly true. Ratchet shifted against the cannon, venting quietly. 

“I do not know what you want me to say, Megatron.” Optimus watched his medic closely. “What do you want for him?” He asked after a moment. 

Megatron chuckled in a sinister voice. “A trade, Optimus? And what can you give me in return? What is worth the precious life of your lapdog?”

Optimus didn’t answer. For a moment, Ratchet was offended, but then the sound of blaster fire drowned his audials, and both he and Megatron twisted around to see the commotion. 

From behind, Bumblebee and Bulkhead had struck, slipping in and beginning to neutralize the vehicons. The fight broke out, Megatron whirling around in surprise, giving Ratchet a sliver of time to act.

He transformed one servo into a blade, and drove it into the fusion cannon’s flank, crying out as it burnt. Megatron yowled, spinning and moving to strike Ratchet, talons swiping in air as the medic leapt out of the way. He jumped to his pedes and stumbled forward, dodging Megatron’s attacks, until he had stumbled right into Optimus’ arms.

He hadn’t intended on this, he hadn’t gotten his balance as he ran, ducking and stumbling to avoid his captor, but there he was, for just a moment, against his Prime’s chest. He felt Optimus tremble from the effort of holding himself back from embracing him. Affection swelled in his spark.

And then, he tore away, spinning to face Megatron, standing at his leader’s side. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy!

Optimus’ powerful field surrounded Ratchet for a brief spell, caressing him protectively, as he spoke hurriedly, “Stay back.” He longed to hold his medic, to whirl him to safety and smother him in all his love, but there was a raging warlord that needed handling. Megatron charged before he could say another word to his medic, cannon firing twice in their direction. Ratchet jumped back, slipping out of harm’s way as the two larger mechs clashed viciously. 

“You should have  _ seen  _ him,” the warlord taunted as he swung downward with his blade. “Your pet was nothing without you, no lap to sit on, no master to stroke him.” He narrowly dodged Optimus’ swing. “He crumbled without your guidance. It was pathetically  _ wonderful  _ to watch.”

Ratchet tried to glimpse Optimus’ reaction to what Megatron was telling him, but his Prime remained stoic as ever as he countered blow after blow. There was a lot of truth to what Megatron was saying, and it stung to think about. He really had been reduced to nothing while in the tyrant’s claws. 

There wasn’t much time to dwell on that now.

The medic backed off to a safer distance as he accessed his com link, static bursting into a familiar voice: “ _ Ratchet? Is that you?” _

“Rafael, we need a bridge,” he barked over the sounds of battle. “You should be able to- knngh-. . !” A thick purple cable clasped around his neck then, tightening to pull a startled gasp from him. Soundwave hurled him to the ground by his throat, slamming a pede onto his side to keep him down.  _ Scrap!  _ Panic flashed in his optics as spindly servos took a hold of the chain leash attached to his neck. “Get the frag  _ off  _ of- hggh. . .” His voice died out in a miserable gasp for air. Soundwave’s extra appendages busied themselves with immobilizing him, pinning him to the ground while his servos took the excess chain and carefully wrapped them around his wrists, binding them tightly and awkwardly behind his back. Soundwave took a step back, looking down at the bound medic blankly, briefly watching him twist and struggle. When he was certain that Ratchet would not break free, he roughly took him by the collar and dragged him back towards the battle. 

Optimus had just managed to strike Megatron down and point a blaster to his helm, when Soundwave released a deafening, shrill avalanche of noise that made Ratchet’s audio receptors ache. He curled in on himself in a vain attempt to escape the sound. He hardly heard the many cries of protest from those engaged in the battle, everyone stilling and looking in the direction of the noise. Optimus and Megatron froze, Megatron on the ground with a blaster pointed in between his optics.

Soundwave’s servo transformed into a blaster, which was promptly pressed to Ratchet’s cheek; it was hot against the soft metal. A cruel laugh left Megatron. “That’s a good look for you, Doctor.”

Ratchet glared at him; he was in an uncomfortable position, laying at Soundwave’s pedes, neck bound to his wrists so tight that he had to awkwardly bend backwards to keep his vocals in tact. 

“Soundwave, release him,” Optimus ordered firmly. He hesitated for a moment before adding, “If you let my medic live, I will do the same for Megatron.” His blaster gave a threatening  _ whirr. _

The silent mech shook his helm slowly. When the Prime did not budge, he roughly took Ratchet by the helm and jammed the barrel of the blaster into his mouth, drawing a sound of protest. 

“Don’t,” Optimus cringed. “We can negotiate. Both of them can walk away from this.”

“Perhaps the war can end here,” Megatron taunted. “Finish me now, your medic will understand your sacrifice, wouldn’t you,  _ Pet _ ?”

The Prime growled at that. “Soundwave, release him, and Megatron will live.” He watched the silent mech closely, optics narrowed. 

Ratchet made a muffled noise of discomfort, the hot blaster burning his glossa. He pushed against Soundwave’s grip on his helm, doing his best to twist away, with no avail. “Stand down or your medic will be terminated,” Megatron spoke for his third in command. “You have five seconds to decide or Soundwave will decide for you.”

Optimus made a noise of frustration as he hastily backed off, lowering his weapon. The warlord rose to his pedes and strode over to the medic, chuckling darkly. Soundwave removed his blaster and stepped aside for his leader, but before either of them could act further, the intense rev of a motorcycle engine swiped their attention from Ratchet. 

Arcee burst into the clearing, her alt mode slamming into Megatron’s face and upper chest, sending him stumbling back. Optimus used the distraction to his advantage, lunging forward and striking Soundwave back, Bumblebee and Bulkhead close behind him. Bumblebee moved to engage with Soundwave, while Arcee and Bulkhead kept Megatron off of Optimus while he freed Ratchet.

He slashed the chain off with a swipe of his blade, smiling at Ratchet as he pulled him to his pedes. “Let’s get the frag out of here,” the medic turned and spoke into his com link once again, calling for a bridge. 

The green vortex opened not far from them. Ratchet went through first, disappearing into the swirls of light. He didn’t stay to see the last bit of the fight, or what happened to Soundwave and Megatron, but he didn’t care to witness it. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Ratchet, may I speak with you privately?” 

The moment Ratchet was home, the others had surrounded him. He was relieved to see all of them, and it felt so wonderful to have them fawning over him and going out of their way to welcome him back, but Primus,  _ he wanted Optimus so bad.  _ When his leader spoke to him gently, and they shared a knowing look, he knew exactly what the Prime had in mind.

“Of course.” He nodded and smiled. 

Bumblebee and Bulkhead exchanged disappointed looks as he and his Prime headed for the hallway; they had been pestering him for details during his stay aboard the  _ Nemesis.  _ Later, he would answer their questions, and ease their concerns, but now, Optimus was his priority. 

The Prime had barely gotten his berthroom door closed when Ratchet  _ pounced  _ on him. Ratchet leapt onto him, sending him off balance and onto the floor with a loud  _ thud.  _ He grunted at the impact, gasping. His noise of surprise was lost in Ratchet’s mouth as their lips met roughly, and a desperate kiss ensued. They clung to each other so hard it  _ hurt,  _ digits scraping paint off of plating, squeezing so hard it made dents, uncoordinated glossia exploring whatever they could. Ratchet gripped him by the collar and drove his mouth against Optimus’ harder, whimpering desperately, tears making their way down his cheeks. After a moment he sat up, wiping his face and smiling down at his leader. Optimus laughed a little; they were laying on the floor, Ratchet on top of him, straddling his hips, after he had practically  _ attacked  _ him. 

“Sweetspark, please don’t cry.” The Prime murmured once he saw the rivers of tears running down his medic’s face. “I’m here.” He reached up and wiped Ratchet’s cheek, smiling sadly. “It’s alright, Ratchet. Don’t cry.”

That only seemed to make Ratchet cry more, though he smiled at his Prime happily and leaned into his touch. “I-I’m sorry, I just. . . I thought I’d lost you.” He covered his mouth to stifle the sob. “He fragging told me you were dead. . . He tricked me, and I thought. . . Primus, Optimus, I love you so fragging much-. . .” He broke, frame wracking with each sob, covering his mouth to muffle the pathetic noises he was making. 

Optimus winced at each noise, tears gathering in his own optics, though they never made it out. “You haven’t lost me,” he whispered, “I’m right here, it’s alright. . .” He had never seen Ratchet cry, and had never seen him so vulnerable and broken. . . “I was so afraid that he would kill you.” He sighed. “What are we going to do?”

Ratchet wiped his optics. He knew exactly what Optimus was referring to. They had agreed that they were both willing to risk being a couple in an intense war, and that they had to accept that one might lose the other to the fight. But they had come so close so living their fears. . . It had been too much.

This is exactly why Optimus had initially refused a relationship. 

If Megatron had found out about them. . .

“A wise idea would be to end this now, before it hurts us again,” Optimus began slowly. Ratchet’s spark sank, and a fresh round of tears slid down his cheeks. “A relationship in a war is a dangerous thing, we both know that.”

“I fell apart when I lost you.” Ratchet said shakily, turning his helm away; he couldn’t look into his Prime’s optics. “I was reduced to nothing. I couldn’t accept that you were gone. In the very beginning, I agreed to accept the fact that I might lose you, and that I would have to keep my emotions in check if I did. I failed to do that. I. . . I understand if. . .” He choked out through a pained sob, “If we must end it. . .” 

A moment of silence passed, and Ratchet made to get off of Optimus, but a servo on his thigh stopped him.

“While ending this now would be the wiser course of action,” the Prime stroked the metal slowly, “I don’t believe I can take losing you.” He squeezed Ratchet’s thigh reassuringly. “I could not stand having to refrain from touching you, feeling you, loving you. . . I think an agreement shall be made.” 

Ratchet looked at him, surprised. “And what agreement is that?”

“If one of us is captured, and Megatron finds out about us, we will accept that we have lost the other. We will not risk the Autobot cause to save the other, and we will not risk lives for the other. We will not let Megatron use us to destroy our cause.” Optimus proposed.

“D. . . Does that mean. . .” The medic was hesitant.

“I love you, Ratchet. I do not want to end my relationship with you. I understand the risk, and I understand that I am making an unwise decision. But I will not lose you now.” 

Ratchet burst into another fit of sobs, collapsing against Optimus’ chest.

“I also have another idea.”

Ratchet smiled, stroking his windshield affectionately. “You’re full of those.”

The Prime shifted, gathering his medic up in his arms and lifting him, placing him on the berth gently. “No more crying,” he begged gently, smiling as Ratchet wiped his optics for what had to be the millionth time. “I have an important question to ask you.”

“I can’t fragging stop.” Ratchet laughed, shaking his helm. “What is it?”

Optimus inhaled deeply. “There is a way to always know the wellbeing of one another. If you had been able to call Megatron’s bluff, it would have saved you much of the pain you endured. If we were to be sparkbonded. . .” Ratchet gaped at him. “If one of us were to be offlined, the other would know it immediately. This may be the best option for our situation.”

“How romantic.” Ratchet said sarcastically.

“That being said,” Optimus grinned at him. “I want to call you my mate. I want you to be mine and mine alone. I want to be closer to you than I ever have before. I love you more than anything. I want you to be my conjunx.”

Ratchet laughed, leaning forward and pecking him on the lips gently, a high contrast to the last kiss they had shared. “Much better. I do like the sound of that. . .” He stroked the Prime’s face. 

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course,” Ratchet wasted no time in letting his spark chamber fall open. “Now hurry up and make me your mate so you can frag me until I can’t walk.” 

“With pleasure, Old Friend.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying this thus far, I recommend looking out for the works I have planned for the future.
> 
> I am going to make a holiday special fanfic, featuring our two favorite old gays <3 
> 
> I'm hoping to have it up just after Thanksgiving. If you're unfamiliar with the classic story A Christmas Carol, check it out, because I'm going to take a Transformers Prime spin on it and it's gonna be friggin' great.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a whole lot of fluff

That night was an intensely passionate one for the Prime and his medic. Optimus held Ratchet flush against his frame as their sparks reached out to brush one another, streams of blue light swirling in patterns together. Their energies and fields became one for a moment, as if they were a combined entity, and then their sparks split, the light fading to a dull glow. They fell apart, chestplates closing, before engaging in what had to be the most intense interfacing Ratchet had ever experienced. He felt young again, suddenly so desperate and hungry for his mate’s sexual attention, both of them grabbing and kissing and touching frantically as if they’d never get the chance again. 

And then, with Optimus curled around his smaller mate protectively, they slipped into recharge, snuggled up and warm. 

The nightmares started that same night.

Scary dreams featuring Ratchet’s repressed war memories weren’t uncommon, they happened every so often, but this one was  _ different.  _ The other dreams went by in quick flashes, glimpses of the past. They didn’t make Ratchet shiver uncomfortably, choke on his own breath, or wake with a terrified scream. They didn’t  _ scare  _ him.

This one did.

_ He had been comfortably tucked into his berth beside Optimus, quietly skimming a datapad, the dim glow illuminating his face in the darkness. A digit brushed his cheek, stroking the metal softly in a way that made his spark just  _ melt.  _ Optimus was so gentle and so loving. . . The resting form beside him shifted, the shadowy silhouette of his mate sitting up. Ratchet turned his helm to look at his Prime, the servo cupping his cheek tenderly. Optimus leaned forward to press a kiss to his smile. . . _

_ The light of the datapad illuminated the face of his mate. . . _

_ And it wasn’t Optimus. _

_ A startled gasp left Ratchet as he found himself face to face with Chrome, the white faceplate lit just enough for him to see the smile he once found so charming. The green mech’s lips sealed over his own before he could speak, the bigger frame pushing against him in a domineering manner. Ratchet shoved him off hard, throwing himself off the berth and out the door. As he stumbled into the hallway, he found his surroundings different, the walls covered in metal panels and flickering buttons and switches- _

_ He recognized the hallway of Chrome’s ship almost instantly. They were standing in the hallway he had met Chrome. _

_ A servo took his arm and threw him against the wall roughly as Chrome made it out of the berthroom. Ratchet cried out as the larger mech trapped his servos above his helm, his protests suffocated by another domineering kiss. It was surprising, because Ironchrome had never been so rough with him, but as the mech’s servos ran down his sides, plucking at sensitive wires and dipping into seams of armor, he found that this Chrome was much, much more assertive. Ratchet’s resistance felt helpless, he suddenly felt so weak against the mech’s aggressive touches. “Stop-!” He tore his mouth from Chrome’s, pushing against the mech’s chest.  _

_ “No.” Chrome jerked him to the ground, easily throwing him down. “I took you so you could be my mate.” Ratchet kicked at him as he lowered on top of him, forcing Ratchet down against the floor. _

_ Panic surged through Ratchet as he was roughly kissed once again, servos grabbing at his plating and violating whatever they could. Digits pulling at his panel, glossa forcefully invading his mouth, a heavy frame trapping his own. Ratchet squeaked in alarm and shoved at him desperately, the realization hitting him hard. He was afraid of what Chrome intended on doing to him, and he wanted it to stop  _ now. 

_ He had no idea why he got the sudden urge to scream for his mate, but he did.  _

_ “OPTIMUS!” He shrieked the moment Chrome’s lips left his. “OPTIMUS, PLEASE HELP!”  _

“OPTIMUS, HELP, PLEASE! OPTIMUS!”

“Ratchet, I’m right here!” 

Ratchet’s optics snapped open. He was sitting up in his berth, screaming as loud as his voicebox would let him, his breaths ragged and heavy. He silenced the frantic wails immediately, covering his mouth in embarrassment, frame shuddering with each breath, his spark pounding in it’s chamber. Optimus’ arms snaked around him slowly, pulling him closer. He sighed and rested his helm against his leader’s chest. It was a surprising discovery that Optimus’ spark was frantically pounding in it’s chamber, and Optimus was also breathing hard and loudly. . . 

“I’m sorry.” The Prime whispered.

Ratchet pulled away just enough to look into his frightened optics. “I don’t understand.” It made sense that Optimus felt his panic, they were bonded now, they could experience the same dreams. That could explain Optimus’ rapid sparkrate, though Ratchet was surprised that he reacted that strongly. Why was Optimus apologizing, though?

Even in the darkness, Ratchet could see the guilt on his mate’s face. Optimus’ optics sparkled sadly, his large servos trembling as they held Ratchet.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. . .”

“Optimus, was that your nightmare?” Ratchet cut him off before he could continue. He had never dreamt about Chrome, even after the night he was captured. It made sense that the horrific dream had been Optimus’, and Ratchet only experienced it because of their sparkbond. 

His spark melted.

“Optimus. . .” He had to rise to his knees to accommodate his leader’s height, so Optimus could bury his face into his mate’s chest. Ratchet hugged him close, stroking his helm lovingly. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“When we bonded, I didn’t think you’d see them. I didn’t want you to experience that. . . You shouldn’t have had to.”

Ratchet had to think for a moment. “What do you mean? Do you. . . Do you have nightmares like that often?”

His mate seemed to hesitate. “I have them every night.” His voice got quiet and shy, as if he was embarrassed to admit it. He sucked in a breath before continuing. “I find myself imagining what could have happened if Chrome took you away that night, what he would have done to you if I couldn’t stop him. . .” Ratchet shuddered unintentionally at that. “Despite my efforts to clear it from my helm, it haunts me every night. I can’t stop seeing him. . . With you. . .” He covered his face with one servo, a defeated sigh leaving him. “When we bonded, I thought that perhaps you wouldn’t experience them. I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“You’ve been having these nightmares every night and you didn’t tell me?” Ratchet demanded, pulling Optimus’ servo away from his face so he could look into the tired optics. “Optimus, that’s horrible! I could have been helping you!” 

“Ratchet, you saw what I was envisioning. I didn’t want to tell you that I was seeing Chrome force himself upon you every night because I felt uncomfortable thinking about it. I thought they’d fade out as time passed.”

Ratchet raised an optic ridge. “Did they?”

Optimus averted his optics. 

“Oh, Optimus. . .” Ratchet sighed, laying back against the berth, pulling his mate with him. “Come here, let me help you.”

The Prime laid his helm against his mate’s chest, listening to the sweet thrum of his spark. Ratchet’s servo stroked his helm and back, smiling a little. He missed this.

“Just listen and feel.” Ratchet murmured. 

With every beat of his spark, he sent a wave of energy through their bond. At each pulse, a small flood of warmth and affection slipped between them, before fading, so the next wave could come. Ratchet closed his optics and focused on keeping the waves in time with his own spark. Optimus snuggled closer, sighing and closing his optics. 

“Just listen and feel.” His mate repeated lovingly.

They laid like that for some time, Ratchet soothing his troubled mate with their new bond. The medic waited until Optimus had been asleep for a few minutes before he let himself fall asleep, his field blanketing around them affectionately.

He wished he could hold his mate like this forever. 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhhh fluff

For once, Optimus didn’t have to try to persuade Ratchet to sleep in for longer. Ratchet simply rolled over and snuggled up against him when the alarm went off, venting softly. Optimus lazily shut it off, pulling the covers up higher and settling back in. And that was that.

They only slept in for a little bit longer before there was a muffled sound of knocking, and a quiet, “Hey, Ratch?”

Ratchet sat up frantically, panic stirring him from his rest. Optimus, having not heard the knock, woke from the anxiety in their fresh sparkbond, quickly shooting up to touch Ratchet. “What? What is it?” He rubbed his optics tiredly, trying hard to think straight through his grogginess.

“ _ Shhh!”  _ Ratchet elbowed him, and he grunted. “Listen-”

A couple doors down from theirs, there was another knock. “Hey, Ratch, are you awake?” Ratchet stared at Optimus, optics wide.

“What’s wrong?” The Prime whispered. 

A frustrated noise answered him. “Optimus, Bulkhead is knocking on my door!” Ratchet whispered back. “They don’t know I’m here, they don’t know we share a room, they don’t know that we’re together, and  _ how am I going to answer him without making it obvious that we were fragging last night?!”  _ He hissed the last part, making furious gestures.

Optimus shook himself awake. “They have to find out at some point,” he unhelpfully shrugged. 

Ratchet nearly throttled him right there. “I haven’t even had a chance to clean up, I can’t go out there!” He ripped the blanket off of himself, and fought the urge to smack his mate upside the helm for the smirk he got. 

He was  _ covered  _ in scuffs of blue and red paint, even in places one wouldn’t expect. Most of the damage was on his thighs and aft, which had to be the most embarrassing. The armor on his wrists had been dented in obvious finger marks, there were dents along his waist and hips where Optimus had grabbed him, his digits were covered in red and blue. . . And not to mention the various fluids dried to his plating. It was painfully obvious that he had interfaced with his leader.

Optimus covered his mouth to hide a wide smile. “What?” Ratchet demanded. “What is so enjoyable about this?”

The Prime reached forward and brushed his thumb across Ratchet’s cheek, as if to attempt to wipe something off. “You’ll need to look in the mirror before anyone sees you like this.” He said lovingly, leaning forward and pecking him on the forehelm. “Last night was certainly an adventure.”

Embarrassment brought a twinge of blue to Ratchet’s cheeks. “Keep it up and we won’t have any more ‘adventures’ for quite some time.” He huffed, pushing Optimus’ servo away from his face. “What am I supposed to do?”

Down the hall came Bulkhead’s voice again. “Sorry if I woke you, it’s just that Miko came here really, really early, after hearing that you came back, and she’s excited to see you. I’ll tell her you’ll be out later.” Ratchet’s spark melted. 

“She was very distressed while you were with the Decepticons.” Optimus draped an arm around him and pulled him close. “She was calling nearly every hour to ask if we had found anything.” 

Ratchet sighed and leaned his helm against his mate. “I’m touched that she wants to see me, but I need to get to the washracks. Now.”

Optimus nodded in agreement and climbed off the berth, Ratchet following him. “Just follow me, if we move quickly, we won’t be seen.” His medic stayed close to him as he stepped out his berthroom door and booked it for the washracks, throwing the door open and yanking Ratchet in. Ratchet stumbled in, laughing as the door closed, grinning as his mate pulled him close. 

“Incredible,” the medic mumbled as Optimus peppered his face with kisses, “The most strategic mech I know, dragging me around like a youngling. Your best plan was to run down the hall and just hope nobody saw?” 

“I simply cannot help it if my mate brings out the child in me.” Optimus swept him off his pedes easily, stepping into the shower. He turned the handle, and a stream of freezing cold oil came crashing down onto them. Ratchet cried out and squirmed, laughing.

“Optimus wait for it to warm up, for Primus’ sake!”

“My bad.” Optimus shrugged playfully, optics sparkling mischievously. He leaned forward to lovingly nip at Ratchet’s neck cabling, engines revving hard as he pressed their frames close together.

“No- we are not fragging right now,” Ratchet laughed again, shaking his helm. “We’re here to clean up the evidence of our last interface, and I have work to do, and I really do want to see Miko.” 

“It’s just so hard to keep my hands off of you,” the Prime kissed him. “But we can postpone it until later.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Ratchet!” 

Ratchet startled at the sudden shrieking, he had barely made it out of the washracks when Miko spotted him and lost her little human mind. She came hopping down the stairs frantically, throwing her crutches aside and just bouncing her way over. Ratchet winced and walked over, kneeling to stop her. “Miko, you’re injured, you have to use your crutches.” He chastised, reaching and delicately plucking the crutches up and setting them beside her.

The human girl just threw herself onto his servo, hugging it tightly. He stopped, blinking. None of the humans had ever been affectionate like this. “I’m so glad you’re back.” Her voice cracked, and his spark clenched at the sound of her crying. “I was scared I’d never get to thank you.” 

“It. . . It’s good to be back, it’s very nice to see you.” Ratchet answered awkwardly.

“It really meant a lot to me that you did all that to save me. I didn’t know you had a badass side.” She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “You’re the best, Ratch.” 

Ratchet smiled. “I’m sorry that you got hurt.” He carefully scooped her up and set her back down on the couch, placing her crutches beside her. “You need to take care of that ankle, now. I don’t want to see you running around.”

Miko laughed. “Okay, mom.” 

Maybe the children weren’t so bad. 


End file.
